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Poets'  Corner,  Westminster  Abbey 


THE  MAKING 


OF 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE 


BY 


WILLIAM    H.    CRAWSHAW,    A.M. 

PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE 
IN   COLGATE   UNIVERSITY 


"Watch  what  main-currents  draw  the  years." 

—  Tennyson. 


>       .      ' 


D.  c.  hi:ati(  &  en.,  puhlishi:rs 

WJSTUN         NtW    YORK         CHICAGO 


/ 


Copyright,  1907, 
By  D.  C.   Heath  &  Co. 


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PREFACE 

The  author's  main  purpose  has  been  to  write  a  compact 
yet  broadly  suggestive  historical  introduction  to  English 
literature  for  use  by  students  and  by  general  readers.     The 
method  is  somewhat  different  from  that  ordinarily  pursued. 
In  the  first  place,  direct  and  separate  discussion  of  general 
English   history  has  been  avoided,  in  the  belief  that  so 
brief  a  book   on  literature  ought  not  to  turn  aside  for  a 
moment  from   its   proper    aim    of   treating  great  literary 
works,  personalities,   and   movements.      Yet    opportunity 
has  been  constantly  sought  to  suggest  and  imply  the  his- 
torical background   indirectly  through  the  literary   treat- 
ment, and  an  outline  of   historical  facts  and   movements 
has  been  furnished  in  the  Appendix.     In  like  spirit,  bio- 
graphical details  have  been  given  mainly  for  the  sake  of 
,*^hcir  significant  relation  to  the  literature.     This  principle 
"^     has  been  applied  with  moderation  and  restraint  and  with 
AJ     care  to  avoid  forcing  its  application  to  unwise  extremes. 
;^        Unity  has  been  given  to  the  discussion  by  a  reasonable 
^  emphasis  upon  the  great  life  forces  which  from  age  to  age 
^  have  determined  the  general  character  of  English  litera- 
.^f   ture,  and  by  a  continuous  endeavor  to  illustrate  the  work- 
^f^ing  of  those  forces  through  a  discussion  of  leading  authors 
and  works.     The  purpose  has  been  to  present  the  spirit 
of  the  literature  as  well  as  the  essential  facts,  the  great 
movements  as  well  as  the  individual  writers.     Here  again, 
the  author  has  kept  in  mind  the  danger  of  extremes,  and 
has  sought  to  avoid  urging  general  principles  beyond  the 
clear  evidence  of   historical  fact.      E.xccptions  and   indi- 

iii 


iv  PREFACE 

vidual  peculiarities  have  been  duly  noted,  and  the  aim  has 
been  to  make  clear  the  relation  of  each  writer  to  the  gen- 
eral movement,  whatever  that  relation  might  be.  Within 
such  limits,  the  discussion  of  great  literary  impulses  is  fully 
justified,  and  ought  to  prove  suggestive  and  stimulating  as 
well  as  unifying. 

Each  chapter  marks  a  chronological  advance  on  the 
preceding  chapter,  except  in  the  last  book.  There,  for 
reasons  suggested  in  the  text,  the  three  chapters  deal  with 
three  separate  departments  of  the  literature  of  a  single 
period  —  prose,  the  novel,  and  poetry.  The  titles  of  the 
various  books  and  chapters  are  in  harmony  with  the  pur- 
pose to  make  the  volume  a  discussion  of  literature  and 
literary  movements  rather  than  of  general  English  history. 
Various  helps  to  more  extended  study  are  given  in  an 
Appendix,  where  they  may  be  easily  referred  to  in  con- 
nection with  the  treatment  of  each  period,  but  where  they 
will  not  interfere  with  the  continuous  reading  of  the  text. 

W.  H.  C. 

Hamilton,  New  York, 
November  6, 1906. 


CONTENTS 
BOOK   I 

PAGANISM  AND    CHRISTIANITY  {449-1066) 
CHAPTER    I 

PACE 

Anglo-Saxon  Pagan  Poetry  (449-670) 3 

CHAPTER    H 
Anglo-Saxon  Christian  Poetry  (670-871)    ....      14 

CHAPTER    III 
The  Anglo-Saxon  Prose  Period  (871-1066)  ...      25 

BOOK    II 
RELIGION  AND  ROMANCE  {1066-1506) 

CHAPTER    IV 
The  Anglo-Norman  Period  (1066-1360)        .        .        ,        •35 

CHAPTER    V 
The  Age  of  Chaucer  (1360-1400) 55 

CHAPTER    \'I 
The  Fifteenth  Century  (1400-1500) 75 

V 


vi  CONTENTS 

BOOK    III 

RENAISSANCE  AND  RE  FORM  A  TION  {1^00-1660) 
CHAPTER    VII 

PAGE 

Beginnings  of  Renaissance  and  Reformation  in  England 

(1500-1579) 87 

CHAPTER   VIII 
The  Age  of  Shakespeare  (i 579-1 625) 99 

CHAPTER    IX 
The  Age  of  Milton  (1625-1660) 153 

BOOK    IV 

CLASSICISM  {1660-1780) 

CHAPTER   X 
The  Age  of  Dryden  (1660-1700) 179 

CHAPTER   XI 
The  Age  of  Pope  (1700-1740) 196 

CHAPTER   XII 
The  Age  of  Johnson  (i 740-1 780) 221 

BOOK   V 

INDIVIDUALISM  {1780-1832) 

CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Age  of  Burns  (1780- 1 800) 251 

CHAPTER   XIV 
The  Age  of  Wordsworth  (i 800-1 832)  .        .        .        .     ■  .    269 


CONTENTS  vii 

BOOK    VT 
DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE  {iSjj-iSgj) 

CHAPTER    XV 

PACE 

The  Agk  of  Tennyson  —  Prose  (1832-1S92)  .        .        .    337 

CHAPTER    XVI 
The  Age  of  Tennyson  —  The  Novel  (1832-1892)         .        .     359 

CHAPTER   X\  U 
The  Age  ok  Tennyson —Poetry  (1832-1S92)        .         .         .     382 

APPENDLX 

CHRONOLOfiltAL    On  LINE   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE  .      410 

Reading  and  Study  List -417 

Aids  to  Study 428 

LNDEX 455 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Poets'  Corner,  Westminster  Abbey      .        .        .        Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Facsimile  of  First  Page  of  Beowllf  Ma.nlscript     .    facing  3 

After  Zupitza. 

Ebbsfleet,  Isle  of  Thanet 13 

Facsimile  of  a  Page  of  Judith  Manuscript        .        .  facing  14 

Cotton  V'itellius  A,  XV,  British  Museum. 

Inscription  in  Runes 24 

Goransson  :  Bautil  —  Kyrko-mur,  No.  44. 

Facsi.mile    of    Page    of    Manuscript    of    Alfred's    Cura 

Pastor ALis facing  25 

After  Skeat's  "  Twelve  Old  English  Manuscripts." 

Reduced  Facsimile  from  Manuscript  of  Saxon  Chronicle      34 
British  Museum. 

Facsimile  of  Leaf  of  Layamon's  Brut         .        .        .  facing  35 

Cottonian  Manuscript,  British  Museum. 

Lady  Chapel,  Glastonbury 54 

Built  1184-1189. 

Geoffrey  Chaucer facing  55 

From  EUesmere  Manuscript  of  Canterbury  Tales. 

The  Canterbury  Pilgrlms      ....  .  facing  70 

After  the  painting  by  William  Blake. 

Reduced  Facsi.mile  Page  from  Malory's  Morte  d'Arthur, 

'529 f^^'>'.K  75 

From  the  edition  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde. 

Representation  of  a  Mystery  Play 86 

From  Sharp's  "  Coventry  Mysteries." 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt facing  87 

From  a  drawing  by  Hans  Holbein  (1527-1543). 

ix 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The  Globe  Theater 98 

After  a  drawing  in  the  British  Museum. 

The    Chancel    of    Stratford    Church,    showing    Shake- 
speare's Bust '      .  facing  99 

From  a  photograph. 

Stratford-on-Avon 

From  a  photograph. 

Interior  of  the  Swan  Theater 

After  a  sketch  made  in  1596. 

John  Milton      .... 
Christ's  College,  Cambridge 
John  Dryden    .... 
Elstow  Church  and  Green,  1658 

After  an  old  print. 

Alexander  Pope 

Pope's  Villa  at  Twickenham 

From  an  old  print. 

Samuel  Johnson 
Robert  Burns  .... 
William  Wordsworth     . 
Graves  of  Keats  and  Severn 

Old  Protestant  Cemetery,  Rome. 

Alfred  Tennyson     . 
Macaulay's  House  in  London 
Thomas  Carlyle 

After  the  portrait  by  Whistler. 

The  Birthplace  of  Carlyle,  at  Ecclefechan 

Charles  Dickens 

Thackeray's  House  in  London 

Where  "  Vanity  Fair,"  "  Pendennis,"  and  "  Esmond ' 

Robert  Browning 


facing 

122 

•                 • 

152 

facing 

153 

• 

178 

facing 

179 

• 

195 

facing 

196 

• 

220 

facing 

221 

facing 

251 

facing 

269 

0                 « 

327 

facing 

328 

•                 ■ 

336 

facing  342 

. 

358 

facing  359 

•                 • 

381 

were  written. 

facing 

382 

THE    MAKING    OF 
ENGLISH    LITERATURE 


THE    MAIvIXG    OF    ENGLISH 
LITERATURE 

BOOK    I 

PAGAN/SAf  AND    CHRISTIANITY  {44g-io66) 

INTRODUCTORY 

Literature  is  one  of  the  fine  arts — it  is  language  used 
for  those  ends  of  emotion,  imagination,  and  beauty  which 
are  sought  by  the  painter,  by  the  sculptor,  and  by  the 
musician.  More  important  still,  literature —  Literature 
like  all  other  art  —  is  an  outcome  and  an  ex-  and  Life 
pression  of  human  life  —  of  human  experience  in  the  past, 
of  human  activity  in  the  present,  and  of  human  aspiration 
for  the  future.  In  any  historical  study  of  literature,  it 
is  this  intimate  relation  between  literature  and  life  that 
calls  for  especial  emphasis. 

The  greater  part  of  literature  is  directly  or  indirectly 
the  product  of  individual  men  and  women.  Therefore  the 
most  immediate  living  fact  to  be  regarded  is  the  fact  of 
personality.  Behind  the  book  is  the  man  ;  and  by  knowl- 
edge of  the  man  and  his  experiences,  we  may  account  for 
the  character  of  the  book.  Behind  all  individual  life,  how- 
ever, is  the  life  of  a  whole  people;  and  in  the  collective 
character  and  life  of  the  race,  we  may  discover  Literature 
the  larger  forces  that  have  gone  to  llio  making  and  the  Race 
of  its  literature.  A  thousand  minor  influences  act  and 
interact  toward  the  i)roduction  of  the  rei)resentative  works 
of  a  racial  literature,  l)ut  these  forces  all  s|>ring  ultimately 


2  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

out  of  the  racial  life.  This  racial  life  is  like  a  great  river. 
It  has  many  tributaries  and  many  currents ;  but  no  tribu- 
tary, however  great,  is  so  important  as  the  main  stream, 
and  no  cross-currents  or  counter-currents  prevent  the  on- 
ward movement  of  the  strong  central  flood.  Nevertheless, 
the  race  undergoes  many  experiences  and  is  affected  by 
many  influences  ;  and  if  we  can  observe  the  forces  that 
have  strongly  modified  its  life,  we  shall  see  some  of  the 
guiding  impulses  that  have  determined  its  literature  —  not 
otherwise.  In  a  word,  to  arrive  at  the  deepest  causes  of 
literary  creation,  we  must  consider  the  racial  character 
and  the  potent  influences  that  from  age  to  age  have  shaped 
that  character  and  determined  the  direction  of  its  activities. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  great  guiding  impulse 
will  serve  to  account  for  a  whole  age  and  for  all  that  is  in 
Guiding  it,  for  each  individual  genius  and  for  all  that  he 
Impulses  j^as  achieved.  To  account  for  all  literary  phe- 
nomena, we  should  need  to  understand  all  the  eddies  and 
currents  of  racial  and  national  life,  all  the  startling  and 
inexplicable  facts  of  literary  personality.  All  that  we  can 
assume  is  that  there  are  great  forces  which  give  a  certain 
degree  of  unity  to  the  multitudinous  variety  of  life  and 
literature,  and  that  these  forces  do  mark  for  us  the  central 
current  of  the  great  literary  stream.  To  observe  the 
guiding  impulses  that  have  shaped  the  life  of  the  English 
race  will  be  to  learn  much  concerning  the  secret  of  that 
long  and  stupendous  process,  the  making  of  English 
literature. 


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Facsimile  of  First  Page  of  Beowulf  MS. 
Zupitza 


CIIAPTKR    I 

ANGLO-SAXON    PAGAN    POETRY    (449-670) 

Just  how  or  when  or  where  the  literature  of  the  English 
race  began,  no  man  can  surely  say.  The  Teutonic  ances- 
tors of  the  English  came  originally  from  the  continent  of 
Europe.  They  belonged  to  three  related  tribes  —  the 
lutes,  the  Saxons,  and  the  Angles  — and  dwelt 

-'  ,  ^  Racial  and 

in  the  Danish  peninsula  and  along  the  coast  of  Literary 
the  North  Sea  to  the  southward.  They  began  "^'°^ 
their  conquest  of  Britain  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  cen- 
tury, and  gradually  extended  their  sway  over  what  is  now 
known  as  England  —  the  land  of  the  Angles.  It  seems 
altogether  probable  that  these  Teutonic  invaders  brought 
literature  with  them  from  across  the  sea,  and  that  they 
still  continued  to  cultivate  it  in  their  new  home. 

We  know  little  of  the  life  and  history  of  that  early  day, 
but  of  the  general  character  of  the  people  and  of  the  ideals 
that  guided  their  life  and  thought  we  can  be  reasonably 
sure.  We  find  the  mind  of  the  race  dominated  by  the 
conceptions  of  Teutonic  paganism  and  its  heart  pagan 
stirred  by  the  passion  for  conquest  and  wild  ad-  Heroism 
venture.  It  was  a  mighty  religious  spirit,  moving  out 
along  the  lines  of  heroic  achievement.  The  jirincipal  Teu- 
tonic deities  were  Tiw,  the  god  of  war  ;  Woden,  the  strong 
and  terrible  father  of  the  gods  ;  Thor,  the  god  of  thunder; 
and  I'Viga,  the  great  mother.  Their  names  still  remain  in 
our  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  Thursday,  and  l"'riday.  The 
supreme  religious  virtue  was  physical  bravery.  The  Val- 
kyries, daughters  of  Woden,  rode  over  the  battle-field, 
selected  those  who  wore  to  die,  and  conducted  tlu-  souls  ot 

3 


4  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

the  heroes  to  Valhalla,  the  hall  of  the  slain,  there  to  feast 
with  the  gods  in  immortal  joy.  It  was  a  religion  whose 
dominant  note  was  one  of  war  and  heroism.  It  was, 
moreover,  a  gloomy  religion.  Over  both  men  and  gods, 
hung  the  boding  shadow  of  Wyrd,  or  Fate,  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  evil  was  at  last  to  whelm  all  in  darkness  and 
cold.  The  conception  was  a  mythological  reflection  of 
the  northern  night  and  winter  overcoming  the  more  genial 
forces  of  nature.  By  such  a  religion  and  by  such  ideals 
was  the  race  moved  ;  and  the  oldest  English  literature  finds 
here  its  primary  guiding  impulse. 

The  existing  remnant  of  this  pagan  literature  stands 
quite  by  itself  in  Anglo-Saxon  literary  history.  In  bulk, 
Earliest  ^^  ^s  almost  insignificant.      A  mere  handful  of 

Literature  poems,  only  ouc  of  which  is  of  any  considerable 
length,  makes  up  the  extent  of  its  treasures.  Yet  it  bears 
unmistakable  evidence  of  the  spirit  which  created  it.  It 
has  been  worked  over  by  Christian  hands,  and  the  old 
gods  have  vanished  from  it ;  but  the  heroic  spirit  of  Teu- 
tonic paganism  is  still  there,  and  Wyrd  still  hangs  like 
a  dark  cloud  over  the  life  which  it  depicts.  Brief  space 
will  suffice  to  make  such  a  survey  of  its  substance  and 
character  as  will  illustrate  its  pagan  tone  and  give  ad- 
ditional insight  into  the  conditions  under  which  it  was 
produced. 

Certain  portions  of  the  so-called  CJiarms  represent  a 
form  of  folk-poetry  that  may  be  as  old  as  the  Teutonic 
Th  ch  race,  and  some  of  their  lines  carry  us  back  to  a 

period  too  remote  even  for  conjecture.  They 
embody  the  folk  superstitions  of  a  remote  heathenism, 
handed  down  among  the  common  people  and  so  tenacious 
of  life  that  the  church  of  a  later  time  could  not  abolish 
them  and  was  driven  to  baptize  them  into  Christian  service. 
In  their  present  form  they  belong  to  a  much  later  period 
and  contain  an  unusual  amount  of  Christian  interpolation. 


ANGLO-SAXON    PAGAN    POETRY    (449-670)  5 

They  form  a  group  of  about  a  dozen  short  poems  or  verse 
incantations  to  be  recited  on  various  occasions,  and  they 
are  accompanied  by  prose  directions  as  to  certain  cere- 
monies to  be  performed  in  connection  with  the  recital. 
Among  others  are  charms  for  bewitched  land,  for  a  stitch 
or  sudden  pain,  for  swarming  bees,  for  lost  or  stolen  cattle. 
In  the  charm  for  bewitched  land,  one  line  appears  to  ad- 
dress some  long-forgotten  earth-goddess : 

Erce,  Erce,  Erce,     eorhan  modor, 
Erce,  Erce,  Erce,     mother  of  earth, 

and  a  little  further  on  is  an  appeal  to  the  earth  itself: 

Hal  wes  |>u,  folde,     fira  modor, 
beo  I'U  growende     on  godes  faebme, 
fodre  gefylled     firum  to  nytte. 

Hail  to  thee,  earth,     of  all  men  the  mother, 
Be  thou  growing     in  the  bosom  of  god. 
Filled,  for  the  use     of  men, -with  food. 

The  conception  of  earth  as  being  made  fruitful  in  the  em- 
brace of  the  god  is  thoroughly  pagan,  and  illustrates  the 
way  in  which  the  Charvis  reflect  old  popular  superstitions. 
Aside  from  certain  portions  of  the  Charms,  probably 
the  oldest  piece  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  is  that  known  as 
Widsi'^    or   the    Far-Traveler.       It   purports   to  ^ 

'        '  Widsiff 

be  the  song  of  a  scop  or  poet,  who  is  called 
WidsiS,  and  who  relates  his  travels  in  many  lands  and  the 
great  events  which  he  has  heard  of  or  seen.  The  persons 
and  events  referred  to  give  evidence  of  the  antiquity  of 
the  poem.  Its  literary  value  is  small  ;  but  as  the  earliest 
complete  poem  of  the  literature,  and  as  a  description  of  the 
life  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  scop,  it  is  of  priceless  worth.  It  is 
thus  that  our  first  I'^nglish  poem  begins  : 

Widsi.S  maMade,     wordhord  onleac, 
se  I'C  monna  ma-st     m;vg|>a  ofcr  cor|>an, 
(oica  gcondfcrdc  :     oft  he  on  flette  ge|>ah 

J 


6  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

mynelicne  maMjum.     Him  from  Myrgingum 
aej^elo  onwocon. 

WidsiS  spoke,     his  word-hoard  unlocked, 
The  man  who  o'er  earth     the  most  of  nations 
And  people  had  traversed  :     oft  took  he  in  hall 
A  friendly  gift.     From  the  folk  of  the  Myrgings 
His  origin  sprang. 

After  the  recital  of  his  wanderings  and  experiences,  it  is 
thus  that  the  poet  concludes  : 

Swa  scril'ende     gesceapum  hweorfa^ 
gleomen  gumena     geond  grunda  fela, 
j^earfe  sccga^',     j oncword  sprecaS, 
simle  su5  oM'C  norS     sumne  gemetaS 
gydda  gleawne,     geofum  unhneawne, 
se  he  fore  dugube     wile  dom  arasran, 
eorlscipe  eefnan,     oh  haet  eal  scaeceS, 
leoht  and  lif  somod  :     lof  se  gewyrceS, 
hafaS  under  heofonum     heahfaestne  dom. 

Thus  wandering  on     through  the  wide  creation, 
The  minstrels  travel     through  many  lands, 
Tell  their  need,     speak  their  thank-word, 
Ever  south  or  north     with  some  one  meet 
Who  is  skilled  in  songs,     unsparing  in  gifts. 
Who  before  the  host     his  fame  would  raise, 
Manfully  act     until  all  shall  depart. 
Both  light  and  life :     who  lives  for  honor 
Hath  steadfast  glory     under  the  stars. 

It  is  the  warrior  blood  as  well  as  the  poet  blood  that 
speaks  in  such  words  as  these.  And  such  is  the  typi- 
cal Anglo-Saxon  scop  —  a  man  with  the  fierce  nature  and 
roving  disposition  which  made  his  kinsmen  the  fight- 
ers and  adventurers  and  conquerors  of  their  time,  which 
made  them  also  the  true  ancestors  of  a  race  that  has  been 
without  a  superior  upon  the  field  of  battle  and  has  con- 
quered and  colonized  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Here,  also, 
is  the  spirit  that  delights  to   sing  as  well  as  to  conquer  — 


ANGLO-SAXON    PAGAN    TOKTRY    (449-670)  7 

the  spirit  that  has  niatle  luigland  even  greater  in  the 
realm  of  poetry  than  in  the  arena  of  action. 

In  The  Lament  of  Dear  we  have  still  another  poem  deal- 
ing with  the  scop  and  his  experiences.  Ueor,  like  WidsiJS, 
has  tasted  the  joys  of  the  poet's  life,  but  he  has  The  Lament 
lived  to  see  himself  superseded  and  his  rewards  o'Deor 
usurped  by  a  rival  more  skilled  or  more  fortunate.  lie 
gives  utterance  to  a  bitter  personal  grief ;  but  he  strength- 
ens his  heart  with  the  thought  that  as  the  heroes  of  story 
have  endured  great  sorrows,  so  he  may  endure  his. 
Of  the  names  mentioned,  some  are  found  in  Widsi'd. 
Some  also  appear  in  the  Germanic  legend  of  Gudrnn,  thus 
furnishing  one  of  the  rare  points  of  contact  between  the 
early  poetry  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  and  that  of  the  Germans 
and  Scandinavians.  The  poem  is  remarkable  for  being  in 
strophic  or  stanza  form.  It  is  doubtless  the  oldest  lyric  in 
the  literature.  In  each  of  five  stanzas  the  poet  mentions  the 
sorrows  of  some  famous  person  and  closes  with  the  refrain  : 

J:'aes  ofereode,     Msses  swa  masg. 
That  passed  over,     so  also  may  this. 

In  the  sixth  and  last  stanza,  he  discloses  the  nature  of  his 
own  personal  grief  and  closes  with  the  same  refrain.  The 
poem  bears  with  it  the  atmosphere  of  the  old  pagan  hero- 
ism, and  the  poet  displays  the  same  enduring  temper  that 
animated  his  warrior  kinsmen. 

The  chief  business  of  the  scop  was  not  to  enlarge  upon 
his  (Avn  j(;ys  and  sorrows,  but  to  celebrate  in  epic  song 
the  deeds  of  the  heroes.  This  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  three  poems  yet  to  be  considered.  Tlic  The  Fight  at 
first  of  these  is  a  mere  fragment  of  about  fifty  F''"ns''"''K 
lines  known  as  The  lui^ht  at  luniishmx.  It  introduces  us 
abrujjtly  into  the  very  heart  of  a  fierce  and  blootly  con- 
flict, and  breaks  off  agaiti  in  the  midst  of  its  spirited  de- 
scription.     \Vc  have  no  pictures  ol  old  Tculonic  battle  that 


8  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY   (449-1066) 

are  more  vivid  and  intense,  and  few  that  are  more  poetical. 
We  learn  more  about  the  general  story  from  the  song  of  a 
scop  in  Beoiviilf,  but  the  battle  is  not  there  described. 

Waldhere  is  also  a  mere  fragment  of  a  longer  epic  poem. 
There  remain  but  two  disconnected  leaves,  each  contain- 
ing thirty-one  lines  from  different  parts  of  the  original 
work.     The  story  involved  is  that  of  Walter  of 

Waldhere  ...  1    ,  •     •       1  11  ^        r 

Aquitame  ;  and  this  is  the  only  known  example  of 

the  transference  into  the  Anglo-Saxon  pagan  poetry  of  any 

part  of  the  Norse-German  epic  cycle.     Probably  there  were 

many  cases  of  the  same  kind ;  and  these  inconsiderable 

fragments  gain  much  of  their  interest  as  revealing  to  us 

the  earlier  association  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  German  heroic 

legends. 

We  come  now  to  the  greatest  poem  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 

literature  either  pagan  or  Christian.     Beowulf  is  the  oldest 

extant    heroic    poem  in    any  Germanic    tongue. 
Beowulf  T  •  •  M  , 

In  a  conservative  estimate,  we  may  attribute  the 

conception  of  the  poem  to  the  sixth  century,  and  its  com- 
pleted form  to  the  close  of  the  seventh  or  the  beginning  of 
the  eighth.  Many  parts  of  the  poem  are  much  older  and 
carry  us  back  to  the  period  before  the  Anglo-Saxon  con- 
quest of  Britain  in  the  fifth  century.  The  substance  of  the 
narrative  relates  it  to  the  history  and  legend  of  the  Teutonic 
tribes  upon  the  continent.  All  its  heroes,  all  its  scenes, 
and  all  its  events  are  continental. 

The  poem  falls  naturally  into  two  main  parts,  and  the 
first  of  these  falls  again  into  two.  The  stories  involved 
are  first  those  of  Grendel  and  Grendel's  dam,  and  later 
that  of  the  fiery  dragon.  In  the  first  part,  we  are  told 
how  Hrothgar,  the  Danish  king,  had  built  a  famous  and 
beautiful  mead-hall,  called  Heorot,  or  Hart,  from  the 
hart's  horns  that  adorned  its  gable  roof.  There  the  old 
king  lived  in  peace  and  joy  with  his  warriors.  "  There 
was  harp's  sound,  clear  song  of  the  scopT     Soon  all  this 


ANGLO-SAXON    PAGAN    POETRY    (449-670)  9 

joy  was  disturbed  by  the  nightly  attacks  of  a  hideous  and 
powerful  monster  named  Grendel,  who  came  from  the  fens 
and  fastnesses  by  the  sea.  For  twelve  years  the  Danes 
endured  the  utmost  misery.  At  last  a  thane  of  Hygelac, 
king  of  the  Geats,  came  to  their  rescue.  This  was  the 
hero  Beowulf.  The  description  of  his  voyage  with  his 
fourteen  followers  shows  the  love  of  the  old  Teutons  for 
the  sea  and  its  perils.  Beowulf  was  welcomed  at  a  great 
feast,  where  mead  flowed  freely  and  the  warriors  were 
entertained  with  the  song  of  the  scop.  Wealhtheow, 
Hrothgar's  queen,  passed  the  cup  to  each  with  her  own 
hands  and  greeted  Beowulf  with  gracious  words.  At  last 
the  Danes  departed  to  their  rest,  leaving  Beowulf  and  his 
warriors  alone  in  the  hall.  "  No  one  of  them,"  says  the 
poet,  "  thought  that  hence  he  should  again  his  dear  home 
ever  seek  out."  Soon  Grendel  came.  He  tore  Beowuuand 
the  door  from  its  hinges.  Fire  glared  from  his  ^'^^^^^^ 
eyes.  He  laughed  a  terrible  laugh  as  he  looked  upon  the 
sleeping  warriors.  One  of  them  he  tore  limb  from  limb 
and  drank  his  blood.  Then  he  encountered  Beowulf. 
The  hall  groaned  with  the  conflict,  and  the  mead-benches 
were  overturned.  Swords  would  not  bite  into  Grendel's 
flesh  ;  but  at  last  the  monster's  arm  was  torn  from  its 
socket,  and  he  rushed  away  hurt  to  the  death.  There 
was  great  rejoicing  at  Heorot,  with  feasting,  gifts,  and  song. 
The  second  part  of  the  first  main  division  of  the  story 
introduces  another  monster,  Grendel's  dam.  Coming 
by  night  to  avenge  her  son,  she  was  fiercely  attacked, 
but  seized  Hrothgar's  dearest  warrior  and  bore  him  away 
to  death.  Beowulf  determined  to  attack  her  in  her  den. 
Arming  himself,    he   plunged    into  the  sea  and   „ 

^  >  1  »-.  Beowulf  and 

sank  to  the   bottcjni.     There  the  frightful   hag  Grendei  s 
seized  him  and  bore  him  away  to  her  sea  cave. 
Finding  his  sword  useless,  he  cast  it  away  and  grasped 
her  with  his  hands.      He  fell  under  her  and  escaped  death 


10  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

only  because  of  his  trusty  corslet.  Regaining  his  feet,  he 
seized  an  old  magical  sword  that  was  lying  in  the  cave 
and  struck  a  despairing  blow.  The  sword  cut  into  her 
body  and  felled  her  dead.  He  cut  off  the  head  of  Gren- 
del,  whose  body  was  lying  there  in  the  cave,  and  swam  up 
again  to  the  surface  of  the  sea.  The  Danes  had  departed, 
judging  from  the  bloody  sea  that  he  had  been  slain.  Only 
his  own  followers  waited  despairingly  for  their  lord.  They 
were  greatly  rejoiced  at  his  return,  and  all  departed  to 
Heorot.  After  feasting  and  gifts  and  pledges  of  friend- 
ship, Beowulf  returned  to  his  own  country.  There  he 
was  welcomed  by  his  king,  Hygelac,  to  whom  he  related 
his  adventures.  With  the  account  of  the  presents  ex- 
changed between  the  two,  the  first  main  division  of  the 
poem  closes. 

The  second  main  division  deals  with  events  that  took 
place  in  Beowulf's  old  age.  He  had  then  been  king  for 
Beowulf  and  fifty  ycars.  A  fiery  dragon,  robbed  of  the  treas- 
the  Dragon  ^^^^  ovcr  which  it  kept  guard,  was  ravaging  and 
destroying  the  country.  Beowulf's  palace  was  burnt, 
and  the  old  warrior  went  with  twelve  men  to  attack  the 
dragon.  With  a  presentiment  of  his  approaching  end,  he 
bade  farewell  to  his  followers  one  by  one  and  went  alone 
to  the  fight.  He  was  unable  to  wound  the  monster  with 
his  sword,  and  suffered  much  distress  on  account  of  its 
fiery  breath.  His  followers  fled  instead  of  coming  to  his 
assistance  —  all  but  Wiglaf,  who  rebuked  the  cowards  and 
hastened  to  his  side.  Wiglaf's  wooden  shield  was  burnt, 
and  the  young  warrior  sought  protection  under  the  iron 
shield  of  Beowulf.  They  finally  succeeded  in  slaying  the 
monster ;  but  Beowulf  was  poisoned  by  its  breath,  and 
Death  of  Wiglaf  brought  the  treasures  from  the  dragon's 
Beowulf  hoard  that  the  old  king  might  see  them  before 
he  died.  The  body  of  the  dragon  was  shoved  over  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  into  the  sea.     The  warriors  built  a  funeral 


ANGLO-SAXON    PAGAN    POETRY    (449-670)  n 

pyre  on  a  high  promontory  and  burnt  there  the  body  of 
Beowulf.  Then  they  made  a  great  mound  on  the  steep, 
high  and  broad,  "for  the  sea-goers  to  see  from  afar." 

Swa  begnornodon     Geata  leode 
lilafordes  hryre,     heor.Ngencatas ; 
cwirdon  |<a't  lie  \v;rre     \v\  ruldcvninga, 
manna  mildust     and  nionhvarust, 
Icodum  lii^ost     and  lofgeornost. 

Tlius  then  mourned     the  men  of  the  Geats 

The  fall  of  their  prince,     the  hearth-companions  ; 

Said  that  he  was     among  worldly  kings 

Tlie  mildest  and  most     humane  of  men. 

Most  kind  to  the  people     and  eager  for  praise. 

Thus  ends  our  greatest  Anglo-Sa.von  poem,  with  this 
picture  of  the  ideal  king,  vahant,  tender,  and  loving  the 
praises  of  men.  Beowulf  is  a  noble  poem,  worthy  to  stand 
in  the  forefront  of  a  great  literature.  The  life  significance 
described  is  essentially  that  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  o^b^o^^"" 
forefathers,  although  neither  Sa.xons  nor  Angles  are  men- 
tioned. It  is  a  picture  of  royal  courts,  with  the  king,  the 
wise  men,  the  nobles,  the  warriors,  the  women,  and  the 
singers  of  songs.  It  is  a  story  of  adventure  by  sea  and 
land,  of  battle,  of  feasting,  of  song,  of  treasure-giving.  It 
is  an  authentic  portrayal  of  the  old  Teutonic  past ;  and 
here  the  pagan  heroism,  the  pagan  gloom,  and  the  pagan 
sense  of  fate  find  adequate  expression.  The  fight  of 
Beowulf  against  Grendel,  and  Grendel's  dam,  and  the 
fiery  dragon,  is  the  fight  of  the  heroic  spirit  against  those 
evil  forces  of  nature  which  loomed  so  large  in  the  religious 
imagination  of  our  forefathers. 

It  has  been  already  implied  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  pa- 
gan poetry  has  in  the  Cf)urse  of  time  inidergone  important 
modifications.  Handed  down  from  scop  to  ^r^y*  and  from 
scribe  to  scribe  through  generations  and  centinies,  ciiange 
was  inevitable,  and  wc  cannot  now   say   how   far   it   has 


12  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

departed  from  its  original  shape.     In  thought,  in  language, 

and  in   poetic  form  it  has  become  more  or  less  closely 

assimilated  to  the  Christian   poetry.       Metrical 

Form  of  •     n  1  rill 

Anglo-Saxon  laws  are  substantially  the  same  tor  the  whole 
Poetry  body  of  Anglo-Saxon  verse.     The  metre  is  based 

chiefly  upon  accent  and  alliteration.  Each  line  is  divided 
into  two  parts,  and  in  the  ordinary  metre  each  half  line  con- 
tains two  accented  syllables.  The  number  of  unaccented 
syllables  in  a  foot  varies  from  none  to  five.  The  law  of 
alliteration  demands  that  two  or  more  of  the  accented 
syllables  in  any  line  shall  begin  with  the  same  consonant 
sound  or  with  any  vowel  sound.  The  number  of  alliter- 
ating syllables  in  a  line  may  be  two,  three,  or  four ;  but 
there  must  be  at  least  one  in  each  half  line.  The  common 
rule  gives  two  in  the  first  half  line  and  one  in  the  second. 
This  metre  has  a  peculiar  effect,  and  could  be  greatly 
varied  by  increasing  or  decreasing  the  number  of  unac- 
cented syllables.  It  is  strongly  rhythmical  and  yet  singu- 
larly flexible.  The  accented  syllables  probably  coincided 
with  rhythmic  strokes  upon  the  harp,  while  the  irregular 
number  of  unaccented  syllables  gave  the  singer  great 
freedom  in  improvisation.  The  feature  of  alliteration 
seems  very  artificial;  but  the  professional  scop  doubtless 
became  so  expert  in  its  use  as  to  handle  it  with  little 
sense  of  restraint. 

This  verse  has  little  claim  to  sweetness  or  smoothness 
of  effect.  It  is  rather  vigorous  and  abrupt,  suggesting  to  the 
ear  the  clash  of  sword  upon  shield  or  the  rhythmic  slap 
of  waves  against  the  prow  of  a  swaying  ship.  It  has  no 
time  for  elaborate  ornamentation  or  for  formal  similes 
or  for  mere  play  of  the  fancy.  The  style  is  serious  and 
style  and  intense.  Imagination  displays  itself  in  concrete 
Spirit  diction  and  in  condensed  and  forcible  metaphor. 

The  sea  is  the  "  whale-road,"  the  ship  is  a  "foamy-necked 
floater,"  the  sun  is  the  "candle  of  heaven,"  the  body  is  a 


ANGLO-SAXON  PAGAN    POETRY    (449-670) 


13 


•'bone-house,"  battle  is  "war-play,"  the  arrow  is  a  "  war- 
adder,"  the  chief  is  a  "gold-friend."  There  is  litrle  cir- 
cumlocution, but  much  repetition  and  parallelism  of 
expression,  giving  the  effect,  not  of  fulness  and  richness, 
but  rather  of  emphasis  and  vehemence.  In  fine,  the  best 
Anglo-Saxon  poetry  is  direct,  concrete,  vigorous,  and  in 
tensely  serious.  It  maybe  crude,  barbaric,  and  unrefined; 
but  it  is  unquestionably  the  utterance  of  men  who  were 
fighters  and  poets  as  well. 


1£bbsflf.f.t,  Isi.e  of  Thanet 


CHAPTER    II 

ANGLO-SAXON   CHRISTIAN   POETRY   (670-871) 

In  the  Anglo-Saxon  pagan  poetry,  and  especially  in 
Beozvu/f,  there  was  the  promise  of  a  genuine  English 
epos ;  but  this  epos  was,  as  Ten  Brink  phrases  it,  "  frozen 
in  its  development."  It  was  thus  arrested,  not  because  the 
impulses  behind  it  were  inadequate  or  because  they  were 
exhausted,  but  because  a  new  and  more  powerful  influence 
was  suddenly  introduced.  This  new  influence  —  so  mighty 
as  to  turn  the  whole  tide  of  the  literature  forever  into  new 
Advent  of  channels  —  was  the  advent  of  Christianity.  No 
Christianity  ^ondcr  that  the  pagan  literature  lost  its  vitality 
and  failed  of  its  natural  growth.  No  wonder  that  a  new 
life  and  a  new  literary  development  began  under  the  force 
of  an  impulse  so  strange  and  so  powerful,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  ideals  so  different  and  so  exalted.  It  is  pre- 
cisely the  advent  of  great  life  forces  like  this  that  marks 
the  beginning  of  new  Hterary  periods.  Yet  right  here  we 
are  met  by  certain  significant  and  at  first  sight  startUng 
facts.  The  old  impulse  did  not  immediately  die  out,  nor 
did  the  new  influence  come  quickly  to  supremacy.  The 
spirit  of  pagan  heroism  continued  to  breathe  through 
many  a  Christian  poem  ;  and  no  Anglo-Saxon  poem 
written  under  Christian  auspices  begins  to  equal  in  poetic 
power  the  essentially  pagan  Beowulf. 

What  accounts  for  these  facts?  Many  causes,  doubt- 
less, but  among  others  these.  The  preaching  of  Chris- 
Christianity  tianity  was  necessarily  slow,  and  paganism  gave 
US.  Paganism  ^^^  ^^^^  g^^^^j^  h&ioxe  it.  The  old  poetic  im- 
pulses were  strong  and  had  great  momentum,  and  later 

14 


jn^5(3)  lioU^^  tnfirple  5^iiolTr  onlm 
tmr^e  IrliT^  tujv^cv  «ibo|v  |?olrnf  jTo/ 

'i^iiTjW  ^Proh^^*  '&li^lrcdi  Mi5^  pal 
p(^]vul:^6^  runo^^  unD^  polcna  Iitto):^ 

Facsimii.i    of  a  paok  of  JtrniTH  MANUSCKH'I 
CoUuu  Vitclliu*  A,  XV,  Untuli  MuMUin 


ANGLO-SAXON   CHRISTIAN    POETRY    (670-S71)         15 

poets  did  not  readily  find  new  ways  even  when  they  felt 
in  full  measure  the  new  influence.  Most  important  of  all, 
Christianity  was  essentially  a  foreign  influence,  and  no 
foreign  influence  becomes  greatly  effective  in  the  making 
of  literature  so  long  as  it  really  remains  foreign.  It  must 
first  be  thoroughly  assimilated,  must  enter  into  the  very 
life-blood  of  a  people,  must  become  bone  of  their  bone  and 
flesh  of  their  flesh.  This  is  a  process  of  generations,  and, 
under  some  conditions,  of  centuries.  Even  when  the 
process  has  been  fully  accomplished,  the  old  nature  is 
likely  to  reappear  in  sporadic  cases.  We  must  remember 
that  the  race  remains  the  same,  however  powerfully  it  may 
have  been  modified. 

Nevertheless,  the  literary  influence  of  Christianity  is 
easily  and  distinctly  traceable  from  the  seventh  century 
onward.  Augustine,  the  first  Christian  missionary  to  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  had  come  to  England  from  Rome  in  597. 
From  the  ecclesiastical  centre  which  he  established  at 
Canterbury,  Christianity  spread  throughout  the  spread  of 
south  of  England  ;  and  during  the  first  half  of  Christianity 
the  seventh  century  it  was  extended  throughout  the  north 
by  both  Roman  and  Irish  missionaries.  The  new  religion 
henceforth  infused  into  literature  a  new  tone  and  spirit. 
It  was  new  in  a  national  as  well  as  in  a  religious  sense. 
The  old  pagan  poetry  contains  no  allusion  to  English  men 
or  to  English  scenes,  and  it  remained  for  Chris- 

•=>  _  ,         .  .  Christianity 

tian  poets  to  begin  the  history  of  English  litera-  and  Litera 
ture  in  the  stricter  sense  of  the  term.  The  first 
definite  creative  period  in  I^^nglish  literary  history  began 
in  the  monasteries  of  Northumbria  toward  the  close  of  the 
seventh  century.  Its  best  work  was  accomplished  during 
the  eighth  century,  and  it  probably  came  to  a  close  early  in 
the  ninth.  During  this  time,  and  indeed  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Period,  the  great  guiding 
impulse   of    literature    is    the    impulse    of    Christianity   in 


I6  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

struggle  with  paganism.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  work 
of  the  period  now  under  consideration  was  ahnost  ex- 
clusively poetical,  and  that  it  includes  practically  all  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  Christian  poetry.  The  next  period,  as 
we  shall  see,  was  mainly  productive  of  prose  literature. 

The  beginning  of  Christian  poetry  in  England  is  marked 

by  definite  dates  and  by  a  definite  name.     The  first  English 

poet — the  authentic  father  of  English  literature 

Ceedmon 

—  is  Caedmon.  He  is  supposed  to  have  begun  his 
work  about  670  and  to  have  died  in  680.  Later  investigation 
has  robbed  him  of  much  that  tradition  once  distinguished 
with  his  name;  but  it  has  not  yet  denied  his  right  to  be  re- 
garded as  the  first  English  singer  of  whom  we  have  any  posi- 
tive record.  Our  account  of  him  is  derived  from  Bede,  the 
first  great  English  scholar,  who  was  born  before  Caedmon 
died,  and  who  had  every  opportunity  to  know  whereof  he 
wrote.  Caedmon  was  a  humble  brother  in  the  monastery 
of  Abbess  Hilda  at  Whitby,  on  the  wild  northeastern  coast 
of  Yorkshire.  He  was  an  old  man  before  the  gift  of  song 
came  to  him  ;  and  as  he  was  utterly  without  literary  train- 
ing, his  poetry  seemed  to  those  about  him  the  direct  inspi- 
ration of  God.  One  night,  after  he  had  left  the  feast, 
ashamed  of  his  inability  to  sing  like  the  others  as  the  harp 
went  round,  he  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  stable  of  the  cattle 
Cffidmon's  of  which  he  had  the  charge  that  night.  In  a 
Vision  vision,  one  bade  him  sing.      "  I  cannot    sing," 

said  he,  "for  this  reason  I  left  the  feast  and  came  hither." 
"  Nevertheless,  you  must  sing  for  me,"  said  the  stranger. 
"What  shall  I  sing.?"  asked  Casdmon.  "  Sing  the  begin- 
ning of  created  things,"  was  the  answer.  Then  he  began 
to  sing  verses  in  praise  of  God  the  Creator.  In  the  morn- 
ing he  made  known  his  wonderful  gift.  The  Abbess  ex- 
horted him  to  enter  the  monastic  life  and  had  him  taught 
in  the  Scriptures.  "  And  all  that  he  might  learn  by  hear- 
ing, he  remembered,  and  like  a  clean  beast  chewing  the 


ANGLO-SAXON   CHRISTIAN    POETRY    (670-871)         17 

cud,  turned  it  into  the  sweetest  poetry."  "lie  san*;-  first 
of  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  of  the  origin  of  man,  and 
all  the  story  of  Genesis ;  and  afterward  of  the  cjedmons 
departure  of  the  people  of  Israel  from  Kgypt  ^°^^'y 
and  their  entrance  into  the  promised  land ;  then  of  many 
other  stories  from  the  Holy  Scriptures;  and  of  Christ's 
humanity,  and  of  his  suffering,  and  of  his  ascension  into 
heaven  ;  and  of  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  of 
the  teaching  of  the  apostles ;  and  afterward  of  the  day  of 
the  coming  judgment,  and  of  the  fear  of  the  punishment 
of  torture,  and  of  the  sw-eetness  of  the  heavehly  kingdom, 
he  made  many  songs ;  and  also  many  others  concerning 
the  divine  mercy  and  glory."  The  legend  is  typically 
symbolic  of  the  beginnings  of  Christian  influence  in  the 
literature. 

A  small  fragment  of  nine  lines  known  as  Caedmon's 
Hjmn  may  contain  the  substance  of  his  first  c«dmon's 
song.  It  is  in  Ccedmon's  native  Northumbrian  "y™° 
dialect,  and  the  manuscript  is  supposed  to  date  from  737, 
little  more  than  half  a  century  after  his  death.  Here,  if 
anywhere,  we  may  feel  that  we  are  almost  in  the  very 
presence  of  Caedmon,  at  the  fountain  head  of  native  Eng- 
lish song. 

Nu  scylun  hergan     hefaenricaes  uard, 

metuda;s  maecti     end  his  modgidanc, 

uerc  uuldurfadur.     .sue  he  uundra  gihuaes, 

eel  dryctin.     or  astclida.-. 

he  aerist  scop     aelda  barnum 

heben  til  lirofe,     haleg  scepen  : 

tha  middiingeard     moncynna's  uard, 

eel  dryctin,  after  tiada* 

firum  foldu,  fria  allnu-ctig. 

Now  ouglit  \vc  to  praise     the  prince  of  heaven's  kingdom, 
The  Maker's  might     and  tlie  tliouglil  of  his  mind. 
The  work  of  the  Father,     since  he  of  all  wonders. 
Eternal  Lord,     the  beginning  established. 


1 8  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

First  did  he  shape     for  the  sons  of  mankind 

Heaven  as  a  roof,     the  holy  Creator ; 

Then  the  middle-world     did  the  warden  of  men, 

The  eternal  prince,     after  prepare 

As  a  dwelling  for  men,     the  Lord  Almighty. 

Then  the  manuscript  adds,  Primo  cantavit  Ccsdmon  isttid 
carmen. 

The  so-called  Junian   Manuscript    contains  a  series  of 
poems  once  collectively  known  as  Caedmon's  ParapJirase. 
This  poetry  answers  in  a  general  way  to  Bede's 
monianPara-  description  of    what    Csedmon  wrote,  but  it  is 
^  "^^^^  uncertain  whether  any  of  it  can  really  be  traced 

back  to  Caedmon.  The  first  part  of  the  manuscript  con- 
tains three  poems,  known  as  Goiesis,  Exodus,  and  Daniel. 
The  second  part  contains  a  series  of  poems  on  the  Fall 
of  the  Angels,  the  Harrowing  of  Hell,  the  Resurrection, 
the  Ascension,  Pentecost,  the  Day  of  Judgment,  and  the 
Temptation.  Genesis  is  a  paraphrase  of  the  first  book  of 
the  Bible  up  to  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham.  It  treats  the 
Creation  freely,  but  follows  closely  the  remainder  of  the 
Scripture  narrative.  It  has  been  divided  into  two  parts. 
Some  critics  assign  "  Genesis  A  "  to  Caedmon,  but  "  Gen- 
esis B  "  is  commonly  attributed  to  a  later  hand.  Exodus 
is  much  freer  and  more  poetical  in  its  treatment  of  the 
Bible  story.  It  deals  with  the  departure  from  Egypt,  the 
flight  of  the  host,  and  the  passage  through  the  Red  Sea. 
This  is  usually  not  attributed  to  Caedmon.  Daniel  is  a 
close  paraphrase  of  the  first  five  chapters  of  the  Book  of 
Daniel.  Its  interest  centres  in  the  deliverance  of  the 
three  Hebrews  from  the  fiery  furnace,  and  it  closes  with 
the  feast  of  Belshazzar.  This  is  much  inferior  to  the 
other  two  poems  in  poetical  merit,  and  it  is  probably 
not  the  work  of  Caedmon.  The  remainder  of  the  manu- 
script consists  of  paraphrases  from  the  New  Testament 
and    from   the    apocryphal    gospel   of    Nicodemus.      The 


ANGLO-SAXON    CHRISTIAN   TOETRV    (^670-871)         19 

poems  seem  to  show  the  work  of  various  hands,  and  some 
fragmentary  portions  may  possibly  belong  to  Casdmon. 

These  so-called  Caedmonian  poems  differ  from  anything 
else  in  the  literature.  If  not  produced  by  Casdmon,  they 
belong  to  his  school  and  were  written  by  men  familiar 
with  his  work  and  inspired  by  his  example.  We  may 
therefore  form  some  fair  conjecture  as  to  the  ^ 

■'  Quality  of 

quality  of  his  poetry,  even  if  we  possess  next  caedmoman 
to  nothing  of  his  actual  work.  It  shows  many  °^  ^ 
characteristics  of  the  old  pagan  poetry,  especially  in  the 
more  heroic  passages.  The  accounts  of  the  Deluge  and 
the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea  mingle  the  old  Teutonic  spirit 
with  the  newer  spirit  of  Christianity.  How  different  Caed- 
mon  was  from  the  pagan  scop,  we  may  readily  see.  He 
was  no  wanderer  through  far  lands,  no  singer  at  boisterous 
feasts,  no  seeker  of  princely  gifts,  but  simply  an  humble 
monk  who  sang  to  the  glory  of  God  and  with  a  sense  of 
divine  inspiration. 
y  We  have  already  had  occasion  to  mention  Bede,  who  is 
as  truly  the  father  of  English  learning  as  Caedmon  is  the 
father  of  English  song.  His  voluminous  and  x^e  vener- 
scholarly  works  in  Latin  do  not  belong  strictly  *^'®  ^^^® 
to  English  literature,  much  less  to  English  poetry.  His 
lost  translation  of  the  Gospel  of  John  associates  him  with 
Anglo-Saxon  prose  ;  and  he  even  gains  a  slight  connec- 
tion with  poetry  by  virtue  of  five  lines  of  verse  known  as 
Bede's  Death  Song.  His  disciple,  Cuthbert,  relates  that 
Bede  sang  many  things  during  his  last  illness,  and  among 
others,  this  brief  song  in  English.  It  is  a  pleasure  thus  to 
associate  with  religious  poetry  the  name  of  the  old  scholar 
who  wrote  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  tlic  English  People, 
and  who  has  there  given  us  our  account  of  the  first 
Finglish  poet. 

Bede  tells  us  that  the  followers  of  Caedmon  were  many, 
and  we  still  possess  a  number  of  poems  that  seem  closely 


20  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

related  to  the  Caedmonian  school.  One  of  the  finest  of 
these  is  JuditJi.  It  is  based  upon  the  apocryphal  Book 
of  Judith,  and  a  greater  or  less  portion  of  it  has 
been  lost.  Three  books  and  a  fragment  re- 
main. These  tell  of  the  drunken  revelry  in  the  Assyrian 
camp,  the  slaying  of  Holofernes  by  Judith,  her  return 
with  the  head  of  the  heathen  prince,  the  attack  of  the 
Hebrews  upon  their  drunken  and  leaderless  enemies,  the 
defeat  and  slaughter  of  the  Assyrians,  and  the  rich  plunder 
of  their  camp.  The  subject  affords  opportunity  for  those 
descriptions  of  feasting,  battle,  and  victorious  celebration 
which  make  the  pagan  poetry  so  vivid  and  poetical.  The 
unknown  author  oi  Judith  has  been  able  to  mingle  with  this 
pagan  vigor  the  loftier  charm  of  the  Hebrew  story,  and  his 
poem  must  have  seemed  to  him  in  some  sense  typical  of 
the  conflict  waged  in  his  own  day  between  Christianity  and 
Teutonic  paganism.  He  was  a  genuine  poet,  with  unusual 
power  in  description,  in  narrative,  and  in  characterization. 
Other  poems  of  the  Caedmonian  school  are  inferior  to 
the  Judith,  but  are  informed  with  the  same  spirit.  They 
oth  r  Earl  ^^^  wholly  rcligious  in  purpose  —  sometimes  with 
Christian       outbursts  of  Spiritual  fervor,  as  in  the  Prayer  and 

Poems 

the  Song  of  the  Three  Children  in  the  Fiery 
Furnace  from  Azarias  and  the  Caedmonian  Daniel ;  some- 
times with  flashes  of  the  grim  Anglo-Saxon  imagination,  as 
in  the  Address  of  the  Soul  to  its  Body  ;  sometimes  tediously 
didactic,  as  in  A  Father  s  Teaching.  One  of  the  most  in- 
teresting fragments  is  an  inscription  from  the  so-called 
Ruthwell  Cross,  still  preserved  in  the  parish  church  at 
Ruthwell  in  Scotland.  The  cross  is  supposed  to  speak  and 
vividly  depicts  its  emotions  at  the  hour  of  the  crucifixion. 
Anglo-Saxon  poetry  is  for  the  most  part  epic  in  charac- 
ter.    In  the  five  so-called  elegies,  we  have  the 

The  Elegies  ,        ,  ,  .    ,     , 

nearest  approach  that  the  eighth  century  can 
offer  to  the  independent,  personal,  and  really  poetical  lyric. 


ANGLO-SAXON    CHRISTIAN    POETRY    (670-871)         2I 

They  are  to  some  extent  Christian  in  lone;  but  they  also 
carry  on  liio  paj^an  tradition  and  remind  us  in  many  ways 
of  the  older  poetry.  The  Waiuiircr  has  not  a  few  points 
of  likeness  to  Widsi'd.  It  is  a  lament  for  dead  friends  and 
vanished  happiness,  for  the  desolation  of  the  world  and  the 
sorrows  of  men.  The  speaker  has  lost  his  dear  lord  and 
kinsmen,  and  has  been  forced  to  wander  in  far  ways  seek- 
ing a  happiness  which  he  does  not  find.  The  poem  is 
artistically  conceived  and  executed,  and  has  no  superior 
among  the  shorter  Anglo-Saxon  poems.  The  Seafarer  is 
full  of  the  old  pagan  love  for  the  sea.  \'ivid  pictures  are 
presented  of  the  dangers  and  delights  of  the  sailor's  life, 
and  there  are  charming  indications  of  a  genuine  love  for 
nature.  The  latter  part  of  the  work  passes  into  a  tone  of 
didactic  moralizing  which  somewhat  mars  the  effect  of  an 
otherwise  fine  poem.  The  Ruin  is  a  fragment  of  excellent 
poetry.  Its  subject  is  a  ruined  city,  identified  by  some 
with  the  ancient  Roman  city  of  Bath.  The  description  of 
the  ruined  heaps,  with  hoar  frost  on  the  stones  and  with 
hot  springs  welling  out  among  them,  is  of  great  interest. 
The  Wife's  Comphnint  and  The  Hnsba}ui's  Message  are 
almost  alone  among  Anglo-Saxon  poems  in  their  expres- 
sion of  the  passion  of  love.  In  the  one,  a  woman  left  to 
sorrow  and  disgrace  tenderly  laments  her  absent  lord.  In 
the  other,  a  wandering  husband  sends  a  message  written 
on  a  piece  of  wood,  conveying  to  his  loved  one  a  reminder 
of  their  long-continued  affection,  and  bidding  her  come  to 
him  over  the  sea. 

A  new  school  of  religious  poetry  grew  up  during  the 
latter  half  of  the  eighth  century,  and  its  leader  was 
Cynewulf.  He  was  more  nearly  allied  than  was  Casd- 
mon  to  the  old  scop.     The  pagan  poets  sang  of 

'  .  Cynewulf 

mythical   heroes  and  warriors  ;    his  heroes  were 

the  saints.     They  described  deeds  of   adventure  by   land 

and  sea  ;  he  carries  his  heroes  through   battles  and  voy- 


22  PAGANISM    AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

ages  and  perils  for  the  sake  of  their  faith.  The  gentler 
spirit  of  Christianity  has  not  altogether  superseded  the 
fierce  and  aggressive  valor  of  heathenism.  His  saints 
know  how  to  suffer,  but  they  also  know  how  to  fight. 
He  seems  to  have  wandered  like  WidsiS,  and  to  have 
known  the  favor  of  a  gracious  lord.  In  his  youth,  he  was 
gay  and  wild,  a  lover  of  sports  and  war  and  poetry,  de- 
lighting in  love  and  beauty,  but  caring  little  for  religion. 
In  later  life  came  suffering,  followed  by- seriousness  and 
repentance.  He  tells  us  that  he  had  led  a  sinful  life ;  but 
after  severe  struggle,  he  appears  to  have  found  comfort 
in  religion  and  in  the  writing  of  religious  poetry.  It  is 
not  improbable  that  both  he  and  Caedmon  were  heathens 
in  their  youth  and  that  they  represent  in  their  own  indi- 
vidual lives  the  great  transition  from  the  old  religion  to 
the  new. 

In  four  poems  have  been  discovered  series  of  runic  let- 
ters concealing  the  name  of  Cynewulf.  These,  then,  may 
cynewuifs  ^c  regarded  as  his  authentic  works.  Elene  is 
Signed  Poems  ^j^g  g^-Qj-y  of  the  finding  of  the  true  cross  at 
Jerusalem.  The  Emperor  Constantine,  after  his  conver- 
sion, sends  his  mother,  Helena,  to  seek  for  the  cross. 
She  is  successful  after  many  hindrances,  and  builds  a 
church  on  the  spot  where  the  cross  is  discovered.  At 
the  end  of  his  narrative,  Cynewulf  reflects  upon  his  work, 
upon  the  future  judgment,  and  upon  his  experiences  as  a 
man  and  as  a  poet.  It  is  into  this  personal  passage 
that  he  has  woven  the  runes  that  conceal  his  name.  In 
Juliana,  Cynewulf  has  told  the  story  of  another  female 
saint.  She  is  a  Roman  maiden  who  remains  true  to  her 
faith  in  spite  of  the  persecutions  of  her  father  and  her 
lover,  and  in  spite  also  of  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  Her 
fidelity  is  sealed  by  a  triumphant  death.  Crist  deals  with 
the  Nativity,  the  Ascension,  and  the  Last  Judgment.  It 
lacks  artistic  completeness  and  unity,  but  contains  some 


ANGLO-SAXON   CHRISTIAN    POETRY    (670-871)        23 

of  the  finest  poetical  passages  to  be  found  in  Anglo-Saxon 
literature.  We  receive  the  impression  of  a  series  of  re- 
lated poems,  gathered  about  the  personality  of  Christ ; 
and  the  work  is  remarkable  as  containing  features  of  epic, 
lyric,  descriptive,  and  even  dramatic  poetry.  The  Fates  of 
the  Apostles  is  a  brief  poem,  reciting  the  fates  of  the 
twelve  apostles  in  a  not  very  poetical  fashion. 

A  number  of  other  interesting  poems  have  been  asso- 
ciated with  the  name  of  Cynewulf,  and  it  seems  probable 
that  they  were  written  cither  by  him  or  by  men  xheschooiof 
of  his  time  and  school.  Gutlilac  tells  of  the  cynewuif 
life  and  death  of  an  English  saint.  Audreas,  one  of  the 
best  of  Anglo-Sa.xon  narrative  poems,  relates  the  adven- 
tures of  the  Apostle  Andrew  among  the  cannibal  Merme- 
donians.  T/ie  PJiocuix  describes  the  fabled  bird  that  was 
able  to  rise  from  its  own  ashes,  and  makes  it  an  allegorical 
type  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ  and  his  saints ;  it  is 
remarkable  among  Anglo-Sa.xon  poems  for  its  tenderness 
and  beauty,  and  none  is  less  tinged  with  pagan  ideas. 
The  Descent  into  Hell  deals  with  Christ's  visit  to  hell 
between  his  death  and  resurrection,  in  order  to  rescue  the 
spirits  in  prison  —  a  theme  congenial  to  the  old  English 
mind  for  centuries.  One  notable  poem,  The  Dream  of  the 
Rood,  differs  much  from  these,  but  reminds  us  in  many 
places  of  the  earlier  verses  from  the  Ruthwell  Cross.  It 
is  a  description  of  the  cross  seen  in  a  vision,  and  voices 
a  passionate  adoration. 

It  seems  probable  that  most  of  the  poetry  thus  far 
considered  was  written  in  Northumbria.  It  has  come  down 
to  us,  however,  not  in  the  Northumbrian  but  in  Language  of 
the  West-Saxon  dialect.  This  fact  is  due  to  the  ^^"^  ^'^^^^ 
incursions  of  the  Danes,  whf)  devastated  Northumbria  and 
practically  annihilated  her  learning  and  literature.  Schol- 
ars and  poets  took  refuge  in  Wessex,  and  the  surviving 
fragment    of    Northumbrian    poetry    was   translated    into 


24 


PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 


West-Saxon.  The  Northumbrian  originals  being  lost,  the 
poems  have  been  preserved  only  in  their  West-Saxon  form. 
How  much  loss  the  Danish  invasion  meant  for  Anglo- 
Saxon  poetry  can  never  be  told.  The  change  from  one 
dialect  to  another  is  a  matter  of  minor  importance.  The 
real  loss  is  that  so  much  poetry  and  so  much  of  knowledge 
about  this  poetry  should  have  been  swept  away  forever. 


Inscription  in  Runes 

Goransson  :    Bautil-Kyrko-mur,  No.  44 


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CHAPTKR    III 

THE   ANGLO-SAXON   PROSE   PERIOD   (871-1066) 

During  the  centuries  that  intervened  between  the  com- 
ing of  Augustine  in  597  and  the  accession  of  King  Alfred 
in  871,  Christianity  had  won  its  battle  against  the  old 
Anglo-Saxon  heathenism  and  had  established  its  ideals  in 
the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  English  people.  The  church 
had  laid  her  foundations,  had  fixed  her  pillars,  and  was 
patiently  rearing  her  great  superstructure.  Nevertheless, 
the  conflict  between  Christianity  and  heathenism  ^^  .  ^.    .^ 

•^  ...      Christianity 

was  by  no  means  at  an  end.  Up  to  this  time  it  and  Heathen- 
had  been  mamly  a  conflict  against  heathenism 
within,  an  effort  to  transform  a  i)agan  people  into  a 
Christian  people.  From  this  forward  it  was  mainly  the 
conflict  of  Anglo-Saxon  Christianity  against  Danish 
heathenism  coming  in  upon  it  like  a  flood  from  without. 
In  a  very  true  sense,  then,  the  guiding  impulse  of  litera- 
ture during  the  present  period  is  still  the  impulse  of 
Christianity  struggling  to  maintain  its  ground  and  to 
continue  its  progress  in  the  face  of  heathen  aggression. 
The  form  of  the  conflict  has  changed  ;  the  spirit  of  it 
remains  essentially  the  same.  The  religious  note  is 
unmistakably  dominant  in  literature  throughout  the  whole 
period.  The  educational  work  of  Alfred  in  the  ninth 
century  is  moved  by  the  desire  for  the  religious  and  moral 
elevation  of  his  jjcople.  yKlfric,  in  his  homilies  and  lives 
of  the  saints  and  Scripture  translations,  carries  on  the 
same  spirit  into  the  early  jiart  of  the  eleventh  century. 
Wulfstan  is  stirred  by  a  passion  of  religious  zeal  and 
proi)hetic  warning  of  (jod's  punishment  for  sin.     liven  the 

25 


26  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY   (449-1066) 

Anglo-Saxon  CJironicle  is  touched  by  the  same  great  im- 
pulse ;  for  its  interest  is  largely  ecclesiastical,  and  its  most 
notable  passages  record  the  warfare  of  English  Christianity 
against  the  terrible  assaults  of  the  Danes.  To  save  the 
people  from  ignorance  and  barbarism  by  reUgious  effort, 
to  repel  the  attacks  of  heathen  foes  —  these  are  the  domi- 
nant ideas  of  the  later  Anglo-Saxon  literature. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  conditions  are  decidedly  less 
favorable  for  literary  production  than  in  the  older  days. 
Effect  on  Lit-  To  sct  up  the  Christian  ideal  and  strive  to  give 
erature  j^-  -^q  mastery  in  heathen  hearts,  to  see  the  new 

faith  winning  its  way  and  diffusing  the  light  of  a  higher 
civilization  —  that  is  full  of  inspiration  —  that  can  make 
poets  as  well  as  preachers  and  teachers.  To  fight  an 
almost  despairing  struggle  against  heathen  hordes,  to 
labor  almost  against  hope  to  save  a  Christian  people  from 
falling  back  into  the  brute  and  Christian  civilization  from 
sinking  beneath  a  deluge  of  barbarism — that  may  awaken 
religious  zeal  and  heroic  courage,  but  it  can  hardly  inspire 
poetic  enthusiasm.  The  literature  of  the  present  period  is 
therefore  almost  wholly  in  prose  —  the  work  of  preachers 
and  teachers  and  chroniclers.  It  is  religious,  but  it  is  not 
inspired. 

The  earliest  prose  writings  in  England  were  in  Latin, 
and  there  is  no  considerable  prose  literature  in  the  English 
tongue  until  the  ninth  century,  after  the  poetical  period 
had  come  to  a  close.  Bede,  in  addition  to  his  voluminous 
Latin  writings,  had  completed  an  Anglo-Saxon  translation 
of  the  Gospel  of  John  ;  and  if  this  had  been  preserved,  the 
history  of  English  prose  would  begin  with  the  early  part 
Early  West-  of  the  eighth  century,  and  in  Northumbria.  As 
Saxon  Prose  jj-  jg^  ^.j^g  earliest  extant  prose  literature  is  in 
the  form  of  West-Saxon  legal  documents  and  entries  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon  CJironicle ;  and  the  first  important  period  of 
prose  writing  is    in    the  reign  of    King  Alfred,  871-901. 


THE  ANGLO-SAXON  PROSE  PERIOD  (871-1066)        27 

This  is  known  as  the  Early  West-Saxon  Period.  Its  Htera- 
ture  is  ahnost  wholly  in  prose.  It  gathered  up  and  pre- 
ser\'ed  the  poetry  of  the  past,  but  it  did  not  add  to  our 
poetical  treasures.  In  addition  to  its  important  contribu- 
tions to  the  A/ij^/o-SiJ.von  Clironiclc,  its  chief  works  are  those 
which  are  associated  with  the  name  of  King  Alfred  himself. 
Alfred  is  the  true  father  of  English  prose,  as  Caedmon 
is  of  English  poetry,  and  as  Bede  is  of  English  learning. 
He  is  so  in  a  double  sense  ;  for  Alfred  was  not 

1  1  f    1  1  11-         King  Alfred 

only  a  royal  patron  of  letters,  but  was  also  hnu- 
self  the  only  important  prose-writer  of  his  time.  When  he 
began  to  make  headway  against  the  Danes,  the  strength 
of  England  gathered  about  him  as  the  true  preserver  of 
the  land  against  its  foes.  Poetry  came  from  Northumbria 
to  take  on  under  his  protection  a  West-Sa.xon  form,  and  to 
be  preserved  and  handed  down  to  posterity.  The  monas- 
teries became  again  the  seats  of  learning  and  culture  and 
education.  A  new  literature,  which  was  to  be  hencefor- 
ward chiefly  in  prose,  grew  up  around  Alfred's  court  at 
Winchester.  It  is,  of  course,  in  the  West-Saxon  dialect, 
as  the  great  body  of  Anglo-Saxon  literature  continued  to 
be  until  its  final  extinction  after  the  Norman  Conquest. 
It  is  with  Alfred  the  writer  that  we  have  here  chiefly  to 
do,  and  our  thought  of  the  great  king  must  be  simply  the 
background  to  the  picture. 

We  must  acknowledge  that  Alfred  was  not  a  great 
literary  genius  or  even  a  great  original  writer.  He  pos- 
sessed, however,  a  clear,  simple,  vigorous,  and  Alfred  as  a 
interesting  style ;  and  the  literature  of  the  thou-  '^"*" 
sand  years  which  lie  between  his  day  and  ours  reveals  no  soul 
more  simple,  earnest,  reverent,  and  devoted  than  that  of  the 
royal  father  of  our  English  prose.  His  literary  work  con- 
sists principally  of  four  notable  translations  from  the  Latin. 

One  of  these   is   the  Citra  Pastomlis,  or  Pastoral  Care, 
of  Pope  Gregory  the  (ireat.     It  has  for  its  object  to  show 


28  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

what  the  mind  of  a  true  spiritual  pastor  ought  to  be  ; 
and  the  translation  of  it  was  part  of  Alfred's  effort  to 
Alfred's  Pas-  improve  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  condition 
torai  Care  ^^  ]^jg  bishops  and  lower  clergy.  The  pref- 
ace, written  by  Alfred  himself,  is  by  far  the  most  in- 
teresting part  of  the  work,  and  in  some  respects  the  most 
interesting  part  of  Alfred's  writings.  It  gives  a  graphic 
picture  of  the  lamentable  condition  of  religion  and  learn- 
ing in  England  when  Alfred  came  to  the  throne,  and 
shows  clearly  the  lofty  and  intelligent  purpose  that  was  in 
the  king's  mind  to  bring  about  a  better  state  of  affairs. 

A    translation    of   Bede's    Ecclesiastical  History  of  the 

English    People   has    also   been    commonly  attributed   to 

Alfred.     This  was,  in   fact,  the  first  history  of 

Alfred 'sBede  '  '  ^ 

England,  and  its  translation  may  well  have  been 
part  of  Alfred's  general  scheme  for  the  instruction  of 
his  people.  Among  other  things  of  great  interest,  the 
translation  contains  Bede's  famous  account  of  Caedmon, 
together  with  a  West-Saxon  version  of  Caedmon's  North- 
umbrian Hyvni. 

Still  another  of  Alfred's  works  was  the  translation  of 
Boethius'  0)i  the  Consolation  of  Philosophy.  Alfred  adds 
Alfred's  Boe-  ^  preface,  in  which  he  gives  an  account  of  Boe- 
thius thius,  whom  Gibbon  has  called  "  the  last  of  the 
Romans  whom  Cato  or  Tully  could  have  acknowledged  for 
their  countryman."  His  work  was  held  in  great  esteem, 
not  only  in  Anglo-Saxon  times,  but  throughout  the  Middle 
Ages,  by  the  church  and  in  the  monastic  schools. 

The  other  notable  translation  of  Alfred  was  a  Universal 
History  from  the  Creation  to  the  Year  of  our  Lord  416 
Alfred's  oro-  written  by  a  Spanish  monk  named  Orosius. 
sius  This  translation,  hke  the  others,  is  made  with 

considerable  freedom.  Alfred  introduces  a  geographical 
description  of  Europe  north  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Danube, 
which  is  the  only  contemporary  account  of  the  Germanic 


THE  ANGLO-SAXON   PROSE   PERIOD    (871-1066)        29 

nations  as  early  as  the  ninth  century.  In  particular,  he 
gives  the  narrative  of  two  travelers,  Ohthere  and  Wulfstan, 
who,  he  tells  us,  had  visited  his  court  and  related  to  him 
the  story  of  their  voyages.  One  of  them  had  sailed 
around  the  North  Cape  and  as  far  as  the  White  Sea.  The 
other  had  traveled  in  the  Baltic  along  the  northern  coast  of 
Germany. 

It  seems  probable  ^  that  from  a  very  early  time  monks  in 
various  monasteries  had  begun  to  make  brief  and  bare  rec- 
ords of  contemporary  events.  The  oldest  annals  Angiosaxon 
are  both  scanty  and  broken  ;  but  gradually  the  c'>f°°'<='e 
years  skipped  became  fewer  and  the  accounts  fuller  and 
more  connected.  An  interesting  entry  for  the  year  755 
has  been  called  "the  oldest  piece  of  historical  prose  in  any 
Teutonic  tongue."  About  855  was  undertaken  a  general 
revision  of  the  earlier  annals.  Gaps  were  filled  up,  new  en- 
tries were  made  in  existing  accounts,  and  detailed  narratives 
were  added  of  some  of  the  more  striking  events.  The 
record  was  also  carried  back  to  the  landing  in  Britain  of 
the  first  Teutonic  invaders  under  Hengist  and  Horsa  in 
449.  The  Winchester  Chronicle,  in  its  fuller  revised  form, 
was  existing  when  Alfred  came  to  the  throne  in  871.  Al- 
fred's wars  with  the  Danes  furnished  an  inspiring  subject 
for  the  historian,  and  for  many  years  the  annals  are  con- 
tinuous and  usually  very  full.  In  Alfred's  last  years  a  new 
revision  of  the  C/ironic/c  was  made,  either  by  Alfred  him- 
self or  under  his  direction.  The  record  from  894  to  924 
is  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  a  single  writer.  His  name 
is  unkncnvn,  but  all  historians  have  united  in  praising  the 
animation  and  vigor  of  his  style.  As  we  shall  have  oc- 
casion to  note  later,  the  Chronicle  was  continued  until 
after  the  Norman  Conquest.  We  may  further  observe  here 
that  it  remains  to  us  in  seven  different  texts  made  in 
different  monasteries,  that  it  is  the   oldest  native  history 

*  Ten  Brink's  English  Literature,  \,  p.  72. 


30  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

in  any  Teutonic  tongue,  and  that  it  is  an  indispensable 

source  of  information  to  the  modern  historian  of  England. 

Before  passing  on  to  consider  the  prose  work  of  the 

Later  West-Saxon  Period,  we  may  here  briefly  notice  what 

^^^s  being  accomplished  in  the    poetical    field. 

IjSiZQx  Poetry 

It  is  small  enough  in  amount,  but  not  altogether 
negligible.  There  was  poetry  of  a  sort  in  Alfred's  day 
and  later ;  but  for  the  most  part  it  lacks  the  old  vitality 
and  power.  Once  and  again,  the  old  heroic  note  is 
heard,  and  there  are  at  least  two  poems  that  possess  a 
high  order  of  merit  and  are  not  unworthy  to  rank  with  the 
best  of  the  older  poetry.  One  is  known  as  the  Battle  of 
BtunaiibiirJi,  and  is  inserted  in  the  Chronicle  for  the  year 
937.  It  is  a  song  of  triumph  for  the  victory  of  the 
West-Saxons  under  ^Ethelstan  and  Edmund,  grandsons 
of  Alfred,  over  the  North  Danes  under  Anlaf  and  the 
Scots  under  Constantine.  The  other  is  called  the  Battle 
of  Maldon,  and  is  even  finer  in  quality.  It  is  a  record 
of  the  fight  of  the  East-Anglians  agamst  the  Danes  in 
the  year  991,  and  seems  to  have  been  written  so  soon 
after  the  battle  that  the  poet  does  not  even  know  the 
name  of  the  Danish  leader.  It  is  interesting  to  observe 
that  the  events  of  actual  history  can  on  occasion  furnish 
as  true  poetic  inspiration  as  heathen  myth  or  Christian 
legend.  One  of  these  poems  celebrates  a  great  Christian 
victory  over  heathen  invaders,  and  has  therefore  a  theme 
full  of  poetic  suggestions.  The  other  records  a  defeat  at 
the  hands  of  heathen  foes,  and  finds  its  poetry  in  the 
splendid  valor  which  despises  cowardice  as  it  despises 
death,  and  which  rejoices  to  fall  in  heroic  battle  about  a 
beloved  chief.  Both  poems  reflect  in  a  clear  and  striking 
way  the  age-long  struggle  of  Christianity  against  heathen 
barbarism  and  show  the  heroic  temper  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
race  whether  in  victory  or  in  defeat.  With  this  later 
verse  die  away  the  last  echoes  of  the  noble  poetry  of  the 


THE   ANGLO-SAXON    PROSE   PERIOD  (871-1066)        31 

Anglo-Saxons,  with  its  pagan  sternness  and  courage,  its 
Christian  faith  and  devotion,  its  poetic  passion  and  imagi- 
nation. Not  again  does  England  hear  such  voices  until 
she  has  emerged  from  the  long  night  of  mediaeval  feudal- 
ism and  ignorance  into  the  dawn  of  her  modern  literature. 

After  Alfred's  death,  literature  rapidly   declined;   and 
for  over   half   a  century   little   or  nothing  was  produced 
outside  of  the  Chronicle.     During  the  reign  of  Latewest- 
Kdgar  the  Peaceful,  however,  from  958  10975,  saxonProse 
a  new  literary  period  began  which  continued  until  after 
the  Norman  Conquest.     This  period  is  known  as  the  Late 
West-Saxon,    in   distinction    from    the    Early  West-Sa.xon 
Period  under  Alfred.     The  chief  literary  product  of  Ed- 
gar's reign   is  the   so-called  Blickling  Homilies,  Biickiing 
written  about  971.     The  homily  was  the  popular  homilies 
form  of  religious  instruction  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh  cen- 
turies, as  it  continued  to  be  for  centuries  later.     It  was  the 
predecessor  of  the  modern  sermon  in  its  function  and  to 
some  extent  in  its  form.     It  has  the  exhorting  element  of 
the  sermon  and  something  also  of  the  expository  element ; 
but  it  indulges  more  freely  in  religious  narrative  drawn 
from   the  Bible   and  from   the   lives  of  the  saints.     The 
Blicklins^  Hoviilies,  although  they  form  a  notable  single 
collection,  do  not  differ  materially  from  other  and  greater 
works  of  the  same  class  presently  to  be  mentioned. 

About  twenty  years  after  the  Blickling-  Honiilies  we 
come  to  the  greatest  of  Anglo-Saxon  prose-writers.  yElfric 
was  born  about  955  and  died  not  far  from  1025.  He  was 
a  man  of  gentle  yet  decided  nature,  cultured,  learned, 
and  eminently  pure  in  life.  As  a  writer,^  he  had 
not  the  creative  power  of  a  great  literary 
genius,  nor  had  he  fallen  upon  an  age  that  was  favorable 
to  literary  production  of  a  high  order  ;  but  he  had  the 
ability  to  assimilate  facts  and  ideas,  to  marshal  them  in 
'   Tin  brink's  Entjlish  Literature,  I,  \y\>.  105,  106. 


32  PAGANISM    AND    CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

orderly  array,  and  to  express  them  in  clear  and  effective 
style.  His  principal  literary  work  is  found  in  his  Homilies. 
These  are  in  two  series  of  forty  each.  They  are  based 
upon  the  writings  of  the  church  fathers,  and  include  topics 
for  the  whole  ecclesiastical  year.  They  embody  great 
theological  learning,  but  are  admirably  adapted  to  the 
understanding  of  the  common  people.  yElfric  follows  the 
fashion  of  his  age  in  interpreting  allegorically  many  things 
in  the  Scripture  text,  yet  he  does  so  with  comparative 
intelligence  and  caution.  There  is  a  large  admixture  of 
the  legendary  and  the  miraculous ;  but  one  feels  also  the 
childHke  faith  and  the  deep  piety.  Closely  alHed  to  his 
Homilies  are  his  Lives  of  the  Saints.  These  were  designed 
to  be  publicly  read  or  delivered  on  the  various  saints'  days. 
A  notable  peculiarity,  and  one  which  appears  to  a  less 
extent  in  other  works  of  ^Ifric,  is  that  they  are  written  in 
a  sort  of  "  rhythmical,  alliterative  prose,"  which  approaches 
poetry  without  really  leaving  the  prose  level.  In  sen- 
timent and  in  picturesqueness,  also,  as  well  as  in  form, 
both  the  Homilies  and  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  have 
occasional  poetical  leanings.  In  addition  to  his  more 
original  work,  ^Elfric  also  takes  his  place  among  our  great 
translators  of  the  Bible.  He  translated  ths  whole  of  the 
Pentateuch,  the  Book  of  Job,  and  several  other  portions  of 
the  Old  Testament  into  clear,  graceful,  and  vigorous  Eng- 
lish. In  his  preface  to  the  translation  of  Genesis,  we  see 
the  lofty  sincerity  of  his  purpose  and  his  solicitude  for  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  the  people.  He  hesitated  to  translate 
the  book,  because  he  feared  the  evil  consequences  of  a 
popular  misunderstanding  with  reference  to  the  old  law 
concerning  polygamy. 

One  contemporary  of  ^Ifric    is  deserving  of  personal 
mention   as  a  writer.     This  is  Wulfstan,  Arch- 

Wulfstan 

bishop  of  York  from  1002  until  his  death  in  1023. 

He  is  the   last  great  English  writer  before  the  Norman 


THE    ANGLO-SAXON    PROSE    PERIOD    (871-1066)       33 

Conquest.  Some  fifty-three  Ihwiilics  have  been  attributed 
to  him,  but  many  of  them  on  uncertain  grounds.  One 
work  of  his  has  long  been  generally  known.  This  is  com- 
monly called  Wulfstan's  Address  to  the  English.  It  warns 
the  people  that  the  terrors  of  Danish  invasion  have  come 
upon  them  because  of  their  sins,  and  forebodes  the  coming 
of  Antichrist  and  the  end  of  the  world.  Wulfstan  was 
not  gifted  with  a  great  creative  imagination  ;  but  he  evi- 
dently had  a  terrible  knowledge  of  the  sins  of  his  age 
and  described  them  with  passionate  earnestness  and  with 
graphic  realism  of  effect.  His  is  almost  the  last  word  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  literature ;  and  it  is  charged  with  relig- 
ious fer\-or  and  with  gloomy  foreboding  of  the  triumph  of 
evil  in  the  world. 

Into  this  intensely  religious  atmosphere,  dark  with 
thoughts  of  impending  judgment  and  of  eternal  terrors, 
breathes  the  strange  odor  of  eastern  romance,  oriental  ro- 
anticipating  the  romantic  literature  which  was  ^^'^^^ 
to  make  so  large  a  part  of  the  poetry  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
As  an  illustration  of  this,  we  may  mention  the  translation 
of  the  late  Greek  romance  of  Apollonins  of  Tyre.  It  is  an 
interesting  popular  tale,  in  strong  contrast  with  anything 
produced  by  the  Anglo-Saxon  genius.  Nearly  six  hun- 
dred years  later,  Shakespeare  made  a  part  of  this  same 
story  the  basis  for  his  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

Once  again  Danish  invasion  pours  in  its  tide  of  war  to 
submerge  the  Anglo-Saxon  literature,  and  the  long  prose 
period  comes  to  an  end.  It  shows  some  signs  of  revival 
toward  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century  ;  l)ut  tlicn 
comes  the  Norman  Conquest  in  1066  to  crush  and  over- 
whelm it  completely.  All  save  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle, 
which  continues  for  nearly  a  century  more.  LaterAngio 
Chronicle  writing  at  Winchester,  the  old  capital  saxon  chron 
of  King  Alfred,  came  to  an  end  ni  looi.  Can- 
terbury, Abingdon,  and  especially  Worcester  then  became 


34  PAGANISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY    (449-1066) 

prominent  as  centres  of  historical  record.  The  Worcester 
CJironiclc  continued  until  1079,  and  was  the  last  of  the 
older  Chronicles.  The  Peterborough  CJirvnicle,  youngest 
of  all,  was  kept  up  until  the  death  of  King  Stephen  in 
1 1 54.  It  shows  marked  changes  in  the  language,  which 
was  rapidly  breaking  up  under  the  combined  influence  of 
the  Latin  and  the  Norman  French  and  of  historical  con- 
ditions. With  the  close  of  the  Peterborough  Chronicle  die 
away  the  last  echoes  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  literature. 


_^^  ^NTDENWCAPVl?"": 

onmi^nc  ytnct^- nvtyc  'bco6cn(xc,cdnn%acon 
b;^cahaEodfin  da^Juelcnd  fehacerfheovon  Vtccr 
pctMjA-  Sm-^A  Tyhart  ai^ijtie  AcTMKapp/c  uji 

Up  cymciicfiTic^ei  •  on^arrP^ban  <)<e£e-  ur  cp  ai  ^ 

jic-fofima.  monayntnc  jolc  my<xitanua\uuf^  JtU*'^^>, 
^e|JHm  hccon)  Xtid  Iccj  cmhc  yi];  mhcj^cc^j^ 
Tutpilrr  aticccr  ^|i*hcncT-tDuj'C)rni£o]'<cnetpel 
^ca  i(s^  un  eahife.hid'^hcnSvyoYehxo^on 
"tltyccnbrnf olAin  hen-  tvylce  ctnh  ^fcjt  yu- 
caxK  y^cc  tz  toltnona^^j^  «>  gt'nchxxmn  cfa.  ^ 

mhaun^jj>a.hu  ccccol3o»,gojcl7»«<q»^»tf^     — /t/j» 

rpo\c  ^6  rt\ay.  co&c  <T  rUapCy^JtiJ  |«*]-  crnOC  a 

Reduced  Facsimile  from  MS.  of  Saxon  Chronicle 

British  Museum 


leoueit  vcne  im  itf •  i.  \»tCtc 

nt^VM  ilaic»lnt1'cu«tg'iicf 
(r  bif  toftcr'  ufifuigt-  ^  y*^  ft»^ 

5rctingr.  ^r  cHm  tn  ^luf  aiJ 

UmfK  m\*e''mav  \»rtn  if  o« 

d  yioc  ai  ID  iHicn.  Vw  if  v'  Ivt^ 
dtdl^flifl'it  mi  lx>^Ht:i(mi 
l)^bm  Tolducr^.tniu  diirt>4H 

tftjflc  tt'fiittii'ia  ttttit  on  Utttf 
tirf  ni^nNMut^iUHi  me  ilfi 
ail  bttt^^i&  null  *n>;»n!P  bf . 

m«e  v<nt%f  t)tJrf  <uftcj  3ffitbi 
umiir.  frttttntr  rwmf^x&nmr 


fDumlnfWrt£rCi)ite»ttC'hw  Cozdoiti 

nwir^f  rtttne  ttt  nunc  reoJbc- 

bmtr  (Ulhtn  ih«i  J'cti  KjnoT  * 
}4oTtihirc  Icflf  fUhic  Ijmcf  at 

italic  Digt  (co^'tlvirbtmicf 

Itf  mm-  rfl  nnfll>ett&f  antoiDt- 
hifif  "riiotrtbr  tunc  a?i6snm 
cn<  ^  »«ib  If  »nit.*a>imt  f»iw* 
icuc-tto  ^^  nwUflf  (ill  fo  mi 
M^(T''^  ifh  i^  Ji  0)  ti  Wyirr^ 
liaHr  CD  K  fobfiilte  l^elfin  «> 
cbjio^'  ortrc  ifilfc.tOi>a!cl) 
tbift:  nit'-^rdi  \rinc  vc  fugrwd 

myi$f  ff  w»ni  ycbast  4i^tB 

iniirnifOVint  fi>z  inri6aiOr-f 
^drbC0btu^tt0l^tl^lllifl    Otti 


Facsimile  of  Leaf  of  Layamon's  Brut 

Cottonian  Manuscript,  British  Museum 


BOOK    II 

RELIGJOX  AND   ROMANCE   {i 066-1  500) 

CHAPTER   IV 

THE  ANGLO-NORMAN   PERIOD    (1066-1360) 

Between  the  Anglo-Saxon  Period,  which  we  have  just 
traversed,  and  the  Middle  EngHsh  Period,  upon  which  we 
are  about  to  enter,  there  is  for  the  student  of  FromAngio 
literature  a  great  gulf  fixed.  The  Norman  Con-  Midd'ieEng 
quest  had  intervened,  and  under  the  stress  of  I'^h 
conditions  created  by  that  great  historic  event,  literary 
utterance  in  the  ICnglish  tongue  was  all  but  silenced.  For 
about  a  century  and  a  half  there  is  practically  no  litera- 
ture in  English  except  the  Anglo-Saxon  C/irouicle ;  and  it 
is  not  until  near  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century  that  a 
new  native  literature  begins  to  appear.  The  language, 
too,  under  similar  influences,  has  undergone  marked 
changes  ;  and  the  Middle  English  literature  almost  seems 
to  be  written  in  a  new  speech.  Yet  all  these  changes  had 
been  gradual,  and  the  life  of  the  race  had  been  continuous 
from  the  close  of  the  one  age  to  the  beginning  of  the 
other.  The  race  had  passed  over  the  gulf  and  had  re- 
appeared on  the  other  side,  ready  to  take  up  again  the 
task  of  expressing  through  literature  its  ever  moving  life. 
It  had  passed  through  great  experiences  and  liad  been 
subjected  to  new  and  powerful  foreign  influences;  but  it 
had  not  been  radically  changed.  Indcetl,  it  was  still  essen- 
tially the  same  race,  with  much  the  same  ideals.  In  a 
word,  the  thread  of  literary  development  had  been  broken 
by  the  accident  of  foreign  conquest,  but  the  thread  of 
racial  life  had  remained  intact. 

35 


36  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

By  what  impulses  shall  we  now  find  this  life  and  this 
literature  determined?  The  question  is  not  so  easy  to 
answer  as  in  the  case  of  the  preceding  period  ;  for  the 
situation  is  a  more  complicated  one.  The  Norman  Con- 
quest, of  course,  powerfully  affected  the  conditions  of  Eng- 
lish national  and  social  life  ;  but  it  was  not  in  itself  a 
great  literary  influence,  except  in  the  purely  negative  sense 
that  it  helped  to  bring  the  old  order  to  a  close  and  to  hin- 
der a  native  literary  revival.  Yet  the  Conquest  brought 
with  it  conditions  which  did  in  time  have  a  positive  and 
very  important  influence  on  literary  production.  In  the 
English  and  Afst  placc,  it  brought  a  new  race  into  England 
Normans  —  ^  ^^^^  Originally  Teutonic,  but  transformed 
by  the  infusion  of  French  blood  into  the  most  brilliant  and 
masterful  race  in  Europe.  The  Normans,  moreover,  were  a 
romantic,  an  artistic,  and  a  poetic  people ;  and  their  pres- 
ence could  not  fail  to  affect  literary  conditions  and  move- 

ents.  Furthermore,  Normans  and  English  were  brought 
into  close  contact  with  each  other  in  almost  all  depart- 
ments of  life.  At  first  the  relation  was  one  of  hostility  ; 
but  gradually  the  two  races  drew  together  until  at  last 
the  one  was  merged  in  the  other.  It  was  not  the 
mingling  of  two  equal  streams ;  for  doubtless  the  na- 
tive English  element  was  much  the  larger  and  more 
important.  The  old  race,  however,  was  in  time  pro- 
foundly modified,  just  as  the  Normans  themselves  had 
been  modified  before  by  their  union  with  the  French.  The 
new  union  was  a  most  fortunate  one ;  for  it  joined  the 
brilliant,  emotional,  and  imaginative  Norman  temper  with 
the  more  solid  and  steadfast  qualities  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
nature.  This  contact  of  races,  in  all  its  stages,  so  profoundly 
affected  the  conditions  of  life  and  the  growth  of  racial 
character  that  it  necessarily  exerted  a  dominating  influence  ■ 
on  literature  as  well.  Indeed,  we  may  fairly  say  that  the 
literature  of  the  whole  Middle  English   Period,  and  espe- 


THE   ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  37 

cially  of  what  we  have  here  called  the  Anglo-Norman 
Period,  was  mainly  shaped  and  controlled  —  perhaps  we 
may  add,  to  some  extent  repressed  and  hindered  —  by  the 
relations  which  existed  between  two  races,  two  languages, 
two  national  and  literary  ideals. 

In  order  to  appreciate  still  more  definitely  the  impulses 
now  working  toward  the  making  of  literature,  we  must  ob- 
serve the  direction  in  which  the  genius  of  each  race  was 
urging  it  to  literary  expression.  The  English  literary 
temper  was  still,  as  it  had  been  throughout  the 

.  .  .  English 

Anglo-Saxon  Period,  chiefly  religious.  Under  Religious 
the  existing  conditions,  it  seems  natural  to  expect  ^"^^" 
the  utterance  of  a  national  or  racial  passion,  asserting 
English  sentiment  against  alien  conquerors.  This  English 
spirit  does  find  voice,  to  some  extent,  in  songs  and  ballads  ; 
but  the  dominant  note  is  a  religious  one.  It  is  as  though 
the  race  had  accepted  its  lot  and  was  seeking  compensation 
for  its  woes  in  the  consolations  of  its  religion.  Indeed, 
there  is  comparatively  little  of  English  literary  protest 
against  Norman  rule  ;  and  the  patriotic  note  is  strongest  at 
a  time  when  Englishmen  and  Normans  were  sufficiently 
united  to  feel  a  common  pride  in  a  common  country. 

As  contrasted  with  English  religious  feeling,  the  Norman 
literary  temper  was  essentially  romantic.     When  William 
the  Conqueror  advanced  against  the  English  army 
at  the  battle  of  Hastings,  the  Norman  minstrel.  Romantic 
Taillefer,   rode   in   front,  tossing    his    sword    in  '^^"p" 
the  air  and  catching  it  again  while  he  chanted  the  So;i^i^ 
of  Roland.      He  was  the  first  to  strike  and  the  first  to  fall. 
The  Norman  valor  was  there,  but  there  also  was  the  Nor- 
man romantic  si)irit.     The  incident  is  finely  symbolic  nf 
the  new  element  which  the  Normans  were  to  bring  into 
English  literature. 

■^^  Wc  may  say,  therefore,  that  the  literature  of  the  Middle 
English  Period  was  guided,  not  merely  by  the  contact  of 


V740O1 


38  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

two  races  in  one  national  life,  but  by  the  double  impulse  of 
religion  and  romance.  These  two  forces  were  not  hostile 
Religion  and  ^^  ^^^^  Other  ;  for  English  religion  was  in  some 
Romance  degree  romantic,  and  became  ever  more  and 
more  so  under  Norman  influences,  while  Norman  romance 
\^was  in  large  measure  religious,  and  took  on  a  deeper  re- 
ligious tone  through  its  contact  with  the  Enghsh  mind. 
The  two  Hterary  streams  tend  finally  to  run  in  the  same 
channel.  No  more  typical  example  could  be  found  than 
the  Arthurian  legends,  which  by  the  addition  of  the  story 
of  the  Holy  Grail  are  exalted  into  great  religious  romance. 
The  mediaeval  cathedral  is  also  a  type  of  this  same  union. 
In  no  creation  of  man  is  there  a  more  impressive  com- 
bination of  religious  solemnity  and  awe  with  romantic  mys- 
/tery  and  beauty.  Indeed,  are  not  the  Middle  Ages  the 
world's  treasure  house  of  romance,  and  do  they  not  at 
the  same  time  furnish  the  world's  supreme  illustration  of 
^popular  religious  faith  .-* 

We  shall  get  the  best  clue  to  a  comprehension  of  the  Ht- 
erary history  of  this  Anglo-Norman  Period  by  conceiving  of 
„  ,.  .         ,  literature  as  moving  along  two  hues  which  gradu- 

Religious  and  o  e>  & 

Romantic  Lit-  ally  tend  to  merge  into  each  other.  On  the  one 
side  is  the  religious  literature,  for  the  most  part 
purely  native  in  form  and  in  spirit.  The  line  runs  from 
Orm  in  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century  to  Lang- 
land  and  Wyclif  in  the  latter  part  of  the  fourteenth.  Over 
against  this  purely  native  work  we  find  the  romantic  lit- 
erature which  grew  up  under  Norman-French  inspiration. 
The  line  here  runs  from  Lay  anion  at  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth  century  to  Chaucer  at  the  close  of  the  four- 
teenth. The  religious  literature  is  mainly  in  poetry,  but 
there  is  some  prose  of  the  same  character.  Romantic  lit- 
erature, is  almost  wholly  poetical,  though  there  are  a  few 
prose  tales.  Where  romance  leans  toward  history,  it  is 
likely  to  be  more  English  ;  where  it  is  mainly  fanciful,  it  is 


THE   ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  39 

more  likely  to  be  French.  Especially  on  its  more  fanciful 
side,  most  of  the  romantic  literature  is  translated  from 
French  originals.  An  important  difference  between 
purely  native  poetry  and  that  which  is  affected  by  French 
influence  is  seen  in  the  form  of  the  verse.  The  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  alliterative  measure,  in  a  modified  form,  still  con- 
tinued to  exert  an  influence  upon  the  verse  of  purely  English 
poems.  Alongside  of  this  grew  up  a  more  strictly  metri- 
cal verse,  following  Latin  and  French  models.  In  Anglo- 
Saxon  poetry,  rhyme  was  of  very  infrequent  occurrence  ; 
now  it  became  a  recognized  feature  of  poetic  expression. 
Modern  English  poetry  has  been  affected  by  both  metrical 
svstems,  but  it  is  chiefly  based  upon  the  French  scheme. 

In  a  period  covering  so  large  an  extent  of  time  and 
having  such  various  lines  of  literary  interest — English 
and  Norman,  religious  and  romantic,  prose  and  Method  of 
poetic  —  it  seems  best  to  keep  even  pace  '^^«*^'°^°* 
with  the  steady  onward  march  of  literary  progress. 
The  following  outline  of  the  Anglo-Norman  literature 
will  therefore  deal  with  the  various  representative  works 
so  far  as  possible  in  a  chronological  order,  indicating  the 
relation  of  each  to  the  separate  but  ever  converging  lines 
of  literary  development.  It  is  desirable,  however,  to  keep 
constantly  in  mind  the  two  great  racial  sources  —  English 
and  French  —  from  which  this  literature  springs,  and  the 
two  great  impulses  —  religious  and  romantic  —  by  which 
its  character  is  determined. 

There  is  evidence  that  the  making  of  English  literature 
did  not  altogether  cease  during  the  century  or  more  suc- 
ceeding the  Norman  Conquest,  but  j)ractically  nothing  of 
importance  has  remained  to  our  time.  With  the  exception 
of  the  Aiii^/o-Snxoii  C///v>;//rA',  which  continued  until  11  54. 
most  of  the  extant  literature  of  that  time  is  of  two  kinds, — 
histories  and  chronicles  in  Latin,  and  romantic  stories  in 
French.      It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  historical  writ- 


40  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

ings  —  including  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  itself  —  tend 
to  become  more  and  more  romantic  in  character.  Toward 
the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  English  literature  proper 

begins  to  revive.  It  is  chiefly  in  the  form  of 
iousLitera^'  Scripture  translation  and  homily,  thus  remind- 
*"''®  ing  us  of  the  latest  Anglo-Saxon  literature  ;  and 

its  tone  is  that  of  religious  moralizing.  A  typical  produc- 
tion is  the  Poema  Morale,  or  Moral  Ode.  It  is  found  in  a 
collection  of  homilies,  and  is  itself  a  sermon  in  verse  on 
the  inevitable  requital  hereafter  of  men's  good  or  evil 
deeds.     It  is  not  without  poetic  merit,  and  gains  an  added 

interest  from  its   somewhat   personal  tone.     A 

Moral  Ode  .  .  ^ 

brief  specimen  will  show  something  of  this 
and  will  also  enable  us  to  observe  the  decided  change 
that  has  taken  place  in  the  language : 

Ich  aem  elder  ben  ich  wes     a  wintre  and  a  lore  ; 
Ic  waelde  more  l^anne  ic  dude,     mi  wit  ah  to  ben  more. 
Wei  lange  ic  habbe  child  ibeon     a  weorde  end  ech  a  dede ; 
peh  ic  beo  a  wintre  eald     tu  jyng  i  eom  a  rede. 

I  am  older  than  I  was    in  winters  and  in  lore ; 
I  wield  more  than  I  did,     my  wit  ought  to  be  more. 
Full  long  I  have  been  a  child,     in  word  and  eke  in  deed ; 
Though  I  be  in  winters  old,     too  young  I  am  in  reed. 

"ixi  the  metre  there  is  a  free  but  not  regular  use  of  the 
^Anglo-Saxon  principle  of  alliteration.     On  the  other  hand, 

we  find  rhyme  and  a  more  regular  rhythm  here  recognized 

as  established  features  of  versification. 

The  first  important  poem  of  the  Middle  English  Period 

Layamon's      ^^  Layamon's  Brut.     What  we  know  of  Laya- 

^™*  mon   is    contained   in    the    introduction    to   his 


poem 


An  preost  wes  on  leoden :  lajamon  wes  ihoten. 
he  wes  leouena^es  sone  :  liSe  him  beo  drihten. 
he  wonede  at  ernle^e :  at  ae^elen  are  chirechen. 
uppen  seuarne  staj^e  :     sel  J'ar  him  J^uhte. 


THE    AXCLO-NOR.MAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  41 

on  fest  Radestone :     her  lie  bock  radde. 

Hit  com  him  on  mode :     &  on  his  mern  honke. 

J>et  he  wolde  of  engle  :     ]>a.  a;<Nel;vn  telien. 

wat  heo  ihoten  weoren  :     &  wonene  heo  comen. 

\>a.  englene  londe  :      icrest  ahtcn. 

aefter  l-an  flode:     \>e  from  drihtene  com. 

lapmon  gon  liiNen  :     wide  jond  has  leode. 
&  biwon  la  a-Sehi  boc :     l-a  he  to  bisne  nom. 
he  nom  l>a  englisca  boc :     ha  makede  seint  Beda. 
an  oher  he  nom  on  latin  :     he  makede  seinte  albin. 
&  l-e  feire  austin  :     he  flilluht  broute  hider  in. 
boc  he  nom  he  hndde :     leide  her  amidden. 
ha  makede  a  frenchis  clerc :     wace  wes  ihoten. 

lajamon  leide  heos  boc  :     &  ha  leaf  wende. 
he  heom  leofliche  biheold  :     lihe  him  beo  drihten. 
feheren  he  nom  mid  fingren  :     &  fiede  on  boc  felle. 
&  ha  sol>e  word  :     sette  to  gadere. 
&  ha  hre  boc  :     hrumde  to  are. 
Nu  bidde'S  lajamon 

alcne  allele  nion  :    for  hene  almiten  godd. 
\>tt  I'cos  boc  rede  :    &  leornia  heos  runan. 
t>at  he  heos  so^este  word  :    segge  to  sumne. 
for  his  fader  saule  :     ha  hine  forS  brouhte. 
&  for  his  modcr  saule  :     ha  hine  to  monne  iber. 
&  for  his  awene  saule:     h^t  hire  he  selre  beo. 

Amen. 

A  priest  was  in  the  land    who  Layamon  was  named. 
He  was  Leovenath's  son,     the  Lord  be  good  to  him. 
He  lived  at  Ernley,     at  a  lordly  church 
On  the  Severn's  shore     (good  there  it  seemed), 
Near  to  Radestone  ;     there  books  he  read. 
It  came  into  his  mind,     and  his  main  thought, 
That  he  would  of  the  English     the  origins  tell, 
What  they  were  called     and  whence  they  had  come 
Who  English  land     first  had  owned. 
After  the  Hood     which  came  from  the  Lord. 
•         *•••**** 

Layamon  fared     far  among  the  folk. 

And  obtained  the  noble  books     which  he  took  for  a  pattern. 


42  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

He  took  the  English  book    which  Saint  Bede  made ; 
Another  he  took  in  Latin     which  Saint  Albin  made, 
And  blessed  Augustine     who  brought  baptism  hither. 
The  third  book  he  took,    laid  it  there  in  the  midst, 
Which  a  French  clerk  made     who  Wace  was  called. 
********* 

Layamon  laid  down  these  books     and  turned  the  leaves. 
He  lovingly  beheld  them,     the  Lord  be  good  to  him. 
Pen  he  took  with  fingers,     and  wrote  on  parchment, 
And  the  true  words     set  together, 
And  the  three  books     threw  into  one. 
Now  Layamon  asketh     each  excellent  man 
(For  Almighty  God's  sake) 
Who  reads  this  book     and  learns  this  record, 
That  these  sacred  words     he  say  together: 
For  his  father's  soul     who  brought  him  forth, 
And  for  his  mother's  soul     who  bore  him  a  man, 
And  for  his  own  soul,     that  it  be  the  safer. 

Amen. 

This  is  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  alliterative  metre,  and  the 
diction  is  also  thoroughly  English.  In  spite  of  its  close 
contact  with  foreign  models,  the  long  poem  is  said  to  con- 
tain fewer  than  fifty  French  words.  EngUsh  patriotism 
and  English  religious  feeling  are  clearly  manifest;  and  yet 
the  poem  is  a  curious  compound  of  foreign  influences.  Of 
Layamon's  ^^^  "three  books "  which  he  mentions  as  the 
Sources  basis  of  his  work,  Wace  was  his  chief  authority ; 
and  Wace's  work  was  based  upon  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth's History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,  written  in  Latin 
about  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century.  Geoffrey  was  a 
Welsh  priest  who  afterward  became  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph; 
and  his  work  purports  to  be  a  history  of  British  kings 
from  the  time  of  their  mythical  ancestor,  Brutus,  or  Brut, 
the  great-grandson  of  ^Elneas  the  Trojan.  It  was,  in  fact, 
a  very  imaginative  compilation  of  Welsh  legends ;  and  its 
extremely  romantic  character  is  well  indicated  by  the  fact 
that  it  contains  the  stories  of  many  legendary  kings  since 


THE   ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD   (1066-1360)  43 

well  known  to  readers  of  later  poetry.  Such  are  Locrine, 
Gorboduc,  Cynibeline,  Lear,  and  Arthur.  Geoffrey's  work 
is  the  fountain  head  of  the  Arthurian  legends,  than 
which  there  arc  no  greater  romantic  stories  in  luiglish 
literature.  On  the  basis  of  Geoffrey's  history,  Wace,  a 
native  of  the  island  of  Jersey,  wrote  in  French  his  Brut 
if  Au<^lctcrn\  or  Bndus  of  England.  This  is  the  work  which 
Layamon  took,  about  1205,  and  expanded  to  more  than 
twice  its  original  size.  He  tells  us  that  he  traveled  far 
and  wide  among  the  people  ;  and  doubtless  his  nearness 
to  Wales  had  familiarized  him  directly  with  Welsh  leg- 
endary lore.  His  additions  are  the  best  part  of  the 
poem.  English  himself,  he  enters  readily  into  the  ro- 
mantic mood,  tells  the  story  of  British  kings  after  a 
French  poet,  and  betters  it  in  the  telling.  His  work  is 
interesting  for  its  language ;  for  its  assimilation  of  Welsh 
and  Norman  influences;  for  its  romantic  character;  and 
not  least  for  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first  to  naturalize 
in  the  English  tongue  the  great  story  of  King  Arthur 
and  his  Knights.  The  account  of  the  founding  of  the 
Round  Table  appears  for  the  first  time  in  Layamon's 
Brut. 

As  Layamon  is  the  first  notable  writer  of  romance  in 
Middle  English,  so  Orm  is  the  first  known  writer  of  re- 
ligious verse.  Orm  was  a  pious  monk  who  ormsOrmu 
paraphrased  in  verse  the  portions  of  the  Gospels  •"'" 
appointed  to  be  read  at  the  church  services  and  interpreted 
these  passages  often  in  a  fanciful  and  allegorical  manner. 
He  begins  thus  : 

Hss  boc  iss  nemmncdd  Oirmulum,  forrM  |att  Orrm  ill  wrolililc. 
This  book  is  named  Ormulum,  because  Orm  wrote  it. 

The  work  has  no  real  jKjctical  value,  but  it  gains  a  certain 
interest  by  virtue  of  its  quaintness  and  its  religious  ear- 
nestness.    To  the  student  of  the  language,  the  work  is  of 


44  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (i 066-1 500) 

unusual  value  because  of  Orm's  interest  in  his  orthography. 
His  chief  peculiarity  is  the  doubling  of  the  consonants 
after  short  vowels.  The  language  at  this  time  was  broken 
up  into  dialects,  grouped  into  three  general  divisions,  —  the 
Northern,  the  Midland,  and  the  Southern.  Orm's  dialect 
is  East-Midland,  and  has  an  admixture  of  Scandinavian 
elements;  French  influence  is  very  slight.  The  Moral 
Ode  and  Layamon's  Brut  are  both  in  the  Southwestern 
dialect.  We  shall  have  occasion  later  to  observe  speci- 
mens of  the  Northern.  The  metre  of  the  Ornmhmi  lacks 
both  alliteration  and  rhyme ;  its  scheme  is  that  of  iambic 
verse  of  fifteen  syllables  to  the  line.  The  date  of  the  work 
is  about  121 5. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  literature 
written  in  English  continued  to  be  mostly  religious.  The 
example  of  Layamon  was  not  much  followed,  and  ro- 
mance still  remained  mostly  in  French.  Religious  poetry 
followed  mainly  the  tradition  set  by  the  Moral  Ode.  A 
specimen  of  it  at  its  best  is  found  in  the  Orison  of  our  Lady. 
„  ,.  .  This  is  a  lyrical  adoration  of  the  Holy  Virgin, 

Religious  J  J  b      ■> 

Poetry  "  Cristcs    milde  moder,   seynte    Marie,"   and   at 

times  mingles  the  tone  of  a  chivalrous  love  song  with  its 
tender  religious  devotion.  It  is  real  poetry,  and  well  rep- 
resents the  mediaeval  passion  of  worship  for  the  "  Mother 
of  God."  The  poetic  paraphrasing  of  Scripture  is  rep- 
resented by  Genesis  and  Exodus.  The  type  is  as  old  as 
Caedmon,  of  whom  the  title  reminds  us.  A  unique  sort 
of  work  is  the  Bestiary.  The  supposed  "  natures "  of 
various  animals  are  quaintly  described  and  made  the  basis 
of  fanciful  religious  allegory,  so  nai've  as  to  be  really  amus- 
ing to  a  modern  reader.  The  lion,  for  instance,  has  three 
"natures."  The  first  is  that  when  from  the  top  of  a  hill 
he  discovers  the  hunters,  he  hastens  down  to  his  den,  drag- 
ging dust  after  him  with  his  tail  to  cover  his  tracks  ;  the 
second  is  that  when  he  is  born  he  sleeps  for  three  days,  till 


THE   ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  45 

his  father  arouses  him  with  roaring  ;  the  third  is  that  he 
never  shuts  his  eyes  in  sleep.  The  Hon  is  the  type  of 
Christ.  The  Lord  came  down  from  the  high  hill  of  heaven 
and  made  his  den  in  the  womb  of  ISIary,  but  not  even  that 
clever  hunter,  the  devil,  might  know  how  he  came ;  the 
Lord  lay  in  the  sleep  of  death  for  three  days,  till  aroused 
by  the  power  of  the  Father ;  the  Lord  is  the  ever  watchful 
shepherd  of  his  flock. 

There  were  homilies  and  lives  of  the  saints  both  in 
verse  and  in  prose.  Perhaps  the  most  typical  prose  work 
of  the  early  half  of  the  thirteenth  century  is  the  Religious 
Aticnn  Rizi'lc,  or  Rule  of  Nuns.  It  was  written  ^^°®® 
for  the  direction  and  religious  consolation  of  three  pious 
women  who  had  retired  into  a  convent  in  Dorsetshire. 
The  style  is  simple,  tender,  devotional,  and  imaginative, 
and  moreover  happily  illustrates  the  union  of  French  and 
English  diction  that  was  gradually  enriching  the  language 
during  the  present  period. 

English  literature  up  to  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century  had  been  comparatively  barren  in  the  matter  of 
genuine  lyric  poetry.  The  lyric  spirit,  however, 
had  been  gradually  developing,  and  at  about 
this  time  and  somewhat  later  there  is  an  outburst  of  real 
song.  It  takes  the  form  of  nature  poems,  love  songs, 
patriotic  songs,  and  ballads.  There  seems  here  to  be  a 
union  of  PVench  influence  with  popular  poetic  feeling. 
Representing  the  spirit  of  folk-poetry,  is  the  famous  Cuckoo 
Song: 

Sumer  is  icumen  in,  Ihude  sing,  cuccu ; 

Growel'  sed  and  hlowe)'  mud  and  .spring^  be  wude  nu ; 

Sing,  cuccu. 
Awe  bleteb  after  lomlj,  lhouJ>  after  calue  cu  ; 
Hulluc  stertel',  l^ucke  uerteK  murie  sing,  cuccu. 

Cuccu,  cuccu, 
Well  singes  )u,  cuccu  ;  ne  swik  l-u  nuuer  nu. 


46  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

Summer  is  a-coming  in,  loudly  sing,  cuckoo ; 

Groweth  seed  and  bloweth  mead  and  springeth  the  woodland  now ; 

Sing,  cuckoo. 
Ewe  bleateth  after  Iamb,  lows  after  calf  the  cow ; 
Bullock  starteth,  buck  darteth,  merry  sing,  cuckoo. 

Cuckoo,  cuckoo, 
Well  singest  thou,  cuckoo  ;  cease  thou  never  now. 

One  of  the  best  of  the  love  songs  is  Alysoim,  of  which 
this  is  a  stanza  : 

Bytuene  Mershe  &  Aueril,        '  * 

When  spray  biginnel?  to  springe, 

pe  lutel  foul  ha)^  hire  wyl 
On  hyre  lud  to  synge ; 
Ich  libbe  in  louelonginge 
For  semlokest  of  alle  I>ynge ; 
He  may  me  blisse  bringe, 

Icham  in  hire  baundoun. 
An  hendy  hap  ichabbe  yhent, 
Ichot  from  heuene  it  is  me  sent. 
From  alle  wymmen  mi  loue  is  lent 

&  lyht  on  Alysoun. 

Between  March  and  April, 
When  spray  begins  to  spring, 

The  little  bird  hath  its  will 
In  its  song  to  sing ; 
I  live  in  love-longing 
For  the  fairest  earthly  thing; 
She  may  me  blessing  bring, 

I  am  her  very  own. 
A  happy  chance  to  me  is  lent, 
I  wot  from  heaven  to  me  'tis  sent. 
From  all  other  women  my  love  is  bent 

And  lights  on  Alysoun. 

The  love  for  nature,  the  hearty  human  quality,  the  fresh 
lyric  impulse,  of  such  verse  as  this,  give  it  an  enduring 
charm.  It  does  not  ally  itself  with  the  great  literary  move- 
ments of    the  age,  but  tends  to  supplement  them  by  an 


THE    ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  47 

inspiration  drawn  from  the  life  and  sentiment  of  the  com- 
mon people.  A  poem  of  somewhat  different  character  is 
The  Owl  and  the  Nightinij^ale.  \n  il  there  is  a  dialogue 
between  the  two  birds,  in  which  each  claims  precedence. 
They  agree  to  submit  the  matter  to  the  poet.  There  is 
real  poetic  feeling  for  nature,  and  the  poem  allies  itself 
with  the  religious  literature  of  the  time  by  virtue  of  its 
moralizing  tone. 

Men  turned  from  the  religious  and  romantic  literature 
of  the  age  to  common  life,  and  found  there  not  only 
inspiration  for  popular  song,  but  also  abundant  Humorous 
material  for  verse  tales  of  a  comic  and  often 
coarse  realism.  Some  were  imitated  from  the  Yrtnch  fab- 
liaux;  some  were  humorous  stories  of  animals,  like  our  negro 
tales  of  Brer  Rabbit  and  Brer  Fox  ;  and  still  others  were 
frankly  satirical.  It  is  interesting  to  see  that  the  two 
favorite  subjects  of  satire  were  found  in  the  fields  of 
religion  and  romance.  The  corruption  of  the  clergy  and 
the  abuses  of  monastic  life  were  held  up  to  ridicule  ;  fanci- 
ful and  overstrained  romanticism  was  the  subject  of  good- 
natured  parody.  Thus  even  this  lighter  and  more  popular 
poetry  allies  itself  with  the  great  literary  interests  of  the 
time.  It  illustrates  in  its  way  the  many-sidedness  of  life 
and  literature  in  all  periods.  The  most  romantic  age  has 
its  touches  of  realism,  just  as  the  most  realistic  age  has  its 
flashes  of  romance.  Religion  goes  on  its  solemn  way  to 
the  jingling  of  cap  and  bells,  and  the  maddest  laughter 
may  find  itself  checked  in  mid-volley  by  the  feeling  of 
religious  awe. 

With  the  lyric  and  humorous  poetry  we  are  carried 
along  into  the  second  half  of  the  thirteenth  century.  It  is 
a  period  rather  barren  of  important  literary  work  ;  and  its 
chief  interest  lies  in  the  fact  that  French  romance  was 
now  exerting  an  ever  increasing  influence  upon  Fnglish  lit- 
erature.    French  originals  were  translated  or  imitated,  and 


48  RELIGION    AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500). 

English  themes  were  dealt  with  in  the    French  manner. 
A    good    example    of    the    French    romance    transferred 
Growth  of       into  English  is  Sir  Tristrem.     It  deals  with  the 
Romance         well-known  story  of    one  of    Arthur's  knights, 
since    handled    by    such    great   modern    poets  as  Tenny- 
son,   Arnold,    and    Swinburne.      With    the    exception    of 
Layamon's  Brut,  it  is    the    first    handhng  in  EngHsh  of 
any  part  of  the  Arthurian  legends.     Havelok  the  Dane  is 
an  English  story ;  but  it  is  treated  in  the  French  manner 
and   is    probably  copied    after    a    French    original.     The 
legend  tells  how  Havelok,  the  son  of  the  king  of  Denmark, 
was    saved    from  a  murderous  guardian  by  the  fisherman 
Grim,  who  escapes  with  him  to  England,  where  he  builds 
a  house  on  the  site  of  the  modern  town  of  Grimsby,  at  the 
mouth    of    the   river    Humber    in  Lincolnshire.    Another 
well-known  romance  is  King  Horn.     It  is  thought  that  its 
legend  of  love  and  adventure  is  Enghsh  in  origin,  but  that 
the  poem  in  its  present  form  is  derived  from  the  French. 
Just  before  1300,  romance  passes  over  into  the  field  of  his- 
'  torical  poetry  in  Robert  of  Gloucester's  rhymed  Chronicle, 
which  is  a  historical  description  of  England  from  Brutus 
to  the  death  of  Henry  III  in   1272.     One  can  not  speak 
highly  of  its  poetical  quality  ;  but  it  is  interesting  for  its 
language  and  metre,  for  its  patriotic  spirit,  for  the  histor- 
ical value  of  some  of  its  later  portions,  and  because  it  forms 
a   link   between    Layamon  and  later  historical  poets.     It 
contains  the  story  of  King  Lear. 

As  we  pass  over  into  the  fourteenth  century,  French 
romance  is  in  full  flower  in  English  literature.  It  is  im- 
possible to  treat  the  multitude  of  romances  in  detail,  but 
we  may  note  that  they  fall  into  four  great  cycles.  The 
Cycles  of  Ro- rnost  important  of  these  is  the  Arthurian.  We 
mance  ^^yg  observed  that  the  story  of  Arthur  and  his 

knights    was    treated    in    Latin    by     Geoffrey    of    Mon- 
mouth,  in    French  by    Wace,    in    English  by    Layamon 


THE   ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  49 

and  in  the  romance  of  Sit  Instnm.  The  story  had  been 
treated  during  the  thirteenth  century  by  many  P>ench 
writers  ;  and  French  genius  had  added  the  legend  of  the 
Holy  Grail,  which  exalts  knightly  romance  into  great  relig- 
ious allegory.  During  the  fourteenth  century  there  were 
many  Arthurian  stories  written  in  luiglish.  The  second 
romantic  cycle  was  c.ie  Carlovingian.  Its  stories  deal 
with  the  adventures  of  Charlemagne  and  his  twelve  pala- 
dins. The  Song  of  Roland,  chanted  by  the  Norman  min- 
strel, Taillefer,  at  the  battle  of  Hastings,  was  one  of  the 
French  Carlovingian  legends.  The  cycle  in  England 
was  much  less  extensive  than  the  Arthurian.  The  third 
cycle  was  the  Alexandrian.  The  story  of  Alexander  the 
Great  seems  to  have  fascinated  the  mediaeval  imagination, 
and  its  ancient  wonders  took  on  the  garb  of  true  romantic 
chivalry.  The  fourth  cycle  was  the  Trojan.  Its  stories 
are  connected  in  one  way  or  another  with  the  siege  of 
Troy.  Brutus,  the  great-grandson  of  yEneas,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  regarded  as  the  ancestor  of  the  British 
kings.  In  addition  to  these  four  cycles  there  were  many 
separate  romances  Among  the  most  English  of  them, 
are  Bcvis  of  Havip'.on  and  Guy  of  Warwick. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as  the 
two  races  began  to  draw  together  and  as  the  two  great 
literary  streams  began  to  flow  freely  in  the  channel  of  a 
common  language,  there  was  a  noteworthy  revival  of 
literature.  We  have  already  observed  it  in  the  field  of 
romance,  and  it  is  no  less  apparent  in  the  field  Religious 
of  religious  poetry.  The  earliest  writer  of  the  P"^*"^ 
century  was  Robert  Manning  of  Brunnc,  or  Bourn,  in 
Lincolnshire,  who  wrote  in  1 303  a  work  called  Ilandlyugc 
Synu, .  \\.  is  interesting  uS  having  been  adapted  from  a 
French  original  written  by  an  Englishman,  and  as  being 
much  more  modern  than  any  English  hitherto  written.  In  a 
mixture  of  homily  and  pious  talc,  it  deals  with  tiie  seven 


50  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

deadly  sins,  the  seven  sacraments,  the  twelve  requisites  of 
a  good  confession,  and  the  twelve  spiritual  graces.  Verse 
homilies  and  lives  of  the  saints  are  common  at  this  time, 
but  the  greatest  religious  poem  is  the  Cursor  Mimdi,  a 
huge  work  of  some  thirty  thousand  lines  by  an  unknown 
poet.  It  is  a  religious  history  of  the  world,  based  chiefly 
on  the  Bible  story,  but  intermingUng  this  with  many  dis- 
cursive legends  and  homilies.  The  dialect  is  Northern. 
One  scribe  says  of  it,  enthusiastically  : 

pis  is  \>t  best  boke  of  alle, 

pe  cours  of  l^e  vverlde  men  dos  hit  calle. 

Considering  its  immense  size  and  scope,  the  following  lines 
seem  not  inappropriate  : 

Cursor  o  werld  men  aght  it  call, 
For  almast  it  overrennes  all. 

Still  another  religious  poet  is  Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole, 
in  Yorkshire.  He  was  educated  at  Oxford,  but  left  the 
University  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and  adopted  the  life  of 
a  hermit.  In  his  solitary  cell,  he  prayed,  meditated,  and 
wrote.  Sometimes,  in  a  passion  of  religious  zeal,  he  went 
out  among  the  people  and  preached  with  powerful  effect. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  holy  and  an  influential  man  ; 
and  after  his  death,  his  cell  was  revered  as  a  sacred  shrine. 
His  chief  work  is  the  Pricke  of  Conscience,  a  long  poem 
dealing  with  the  uncertainty  of  human  life  and  the  coming 
of  the  Last  Judgment.  His  shorter  sacred  poems  to  the 
divine  love  are  the  work  of  a  mystic  and  a  poet.  Many 
other  works  in  prose  and  verse,  in  Latin  and  English,  have 
been  attributed  to  him. 

RoUe's  work,  as  we  have  just  implied,  ranks  him 
with  the  prose-writers  as  well  as  with  the  poets  of  his  age. 
Religious  -^^^  prosc  writings  are  all  rehgious,  but  no 
Prose  single    work    calls    for    special    mention.      He 

carries  us  along  to  about  1340;  and  to  this  same  period 


THE    AN'GLO-XOKMAX    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  51 

belongs  Dan  Michel's  Ayinbitc  of  Iiiivit,  or  Remorse-  of 
Consiicncf.  Written  in  the  Kentish  dialect,  it  is  of  decided 
interest  to  the  student  of  the  language,  but  not  much  can 
be  claimed  for  it  as  pure  literature.  It  has  been  called  "  a 
popular  handbook  of  moral  theology  "  ;  and  as  such,  it  is 
typical  of  the  religious  spirit  of  the  age.  Among  its  subjects 
are  the  ten  commandments,  the  creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
the  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  tlic  beast  of  Revelation. 
Like  other  works  of  the  period,  it  is  full  of  allegory. 

Contemporary  with  the  religious  literature  there  is  an 
interesting  development  of  historical  poetry,  inspired  by 
the  ever  growing  national  spirit.  Robert  of  Gloucester's 
Chronicle,  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  has  been 
already  mentioned  as  opening  the  way  in  this  direction. 
This  lead  was  followed  early  in  the  fourteenth  century  by 
Robert  Manning  of  Brunne,  already  noted  as  the  author 
of  Handlyngc  Syiinc.  About  1338,  he  wrote  a  Patriotic 
rhyming  History  of  England.  Like  his  religious  ^^^""y 
work,  it  is  adapted  from  a  P'rench  original  written  by  an 
Englishman,  thus  illustrating  both  the  importance  of 
French  and  the  growing  tendency  to  turn  to  English  as 
a  literary  medium.  Manning  shows  no  advance  over  his 
predecessors  in  recognizing  the  boundary  between  history 
and  romance ;  and  his  work  is  more  interesting  for  its 
patriotic  spirit  than  for  its  historical  fidelity.  A  writer  of 
a  somewhat  different  type  is  Lawrence  Minot,  probably  a 
Northumbrian,  who  wrote  between  1333  and  1352.  His 
work  cfjnsists  of  a  series  of  political  songs  or  ballads  on 
the  battles  and  deeds  of  Edward  HL  They  show  a  vigor- 
ous patriotism,  but  not  much  imagination  or  lyric  gift. 
Minot  is  a  true-born  iMiglishman,  and  religiously  hates 
Frenchmen  and  .Scots.    One  of  his  ballads  begins  as  follows  : 

God.  I'at  scliope  both  se  and  sand, 
Saue  Edward,  kinjj  of  Ingland, 
Both  Ixxiy.  saul  and  hfc, 
And  Krantf  him  ii)\  w  ithowtcn  strif. 


52  RELIGION   AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

The  most  famous  single  work  of  the  period  now  under 
review  is  Mandeville's  Travels.  This  book  purports  to 
have  been  written  by  Sir  John  Mandeville,  an  English- 
Mandeviiie's  man  who  was  born  at  St.  Albans,  traveled 
Travels  abroad  for  thirty-four  years,  returned  to  England 

in  1356,  and  wrote  the  account  of  his  wanderings  in  Latin, 
French,  and  English.  Modern  criticism  says  that  Mande- 
ville is  as  fictitious  as  his  Travels.  In  any  case,  we  have 
the  book ;  and  it  is  the  first  genuinely  imaginative  prose 
work  in  the  literature  and  the  first  work  to  have  the  gift  of 
a  real  English  prose  style.  That  is  much  ;  and  no  doubts 
about  the  author  can  obscure  the  fact  that  the  book  was 
immensely  popular  and  that  it  had  a  most  important  influ- 
ence upon  the  development  of  English  prose.  It  seems  to 
be  made  up  partly  of  real  experiences  and  partly  of  romantic 
marvels  drawn  from  many  sources.  Here  are  accounts  of 
Asia  Minor,  Palestine,  Egypt,  Arabia,  Ethiopia,  Armenia, 
India,  Cathay,  the  realm  of  Prester  John,  and  the  Terrestrial 
Paradise.  Here  are  stories  of  dragons,  griffins,  hunting 
leopards,  devils,  giants,  pygmies,  Saracens,  Amazons,  men 
with  one  foot  so  large  that  they  lie  down  in  the  shadow  of 
it,  men  with  a  single  eye  in  the  middle  of  their  foreheads, 
men  with  heads  beneath  their  shoulders,  men  with  heads 
like  hounds,  men  covered  with  feathers,  and  many  other 
wonders  too  numerous  to  recount.  The  narrative  is  accom- 
panied with  quaint  and  convincing  pictures  of  the  objects 
described,  and  is  written  with  a  naive  realism  that  leaves 
Httle  to  be  desired.  Yet  "  Sir  John  "  has  exercised  withal 
a  commendable  self-restraint : 

There  are  many  other  countreys  where  I  have  not  yet  ben  nor  sene 
&  therefore  I  can  not  speke  properly  of  them.  Also  in  countreys 
where  I  have  bene  are  many  marvailes  that  I  speke  not  of,  for  it  were  to 
long  a  tale  and  therefore  hold  you  payd  at  this  time  yt  I  haue  sayd, 
for  I  will  say  no  more  of  mervailes  that  are  there,  so  that  other  men 
that  go  thither  may  fynde  ynough  for  to  say  that  I  haue  not   tolde. 


THE    ANGLO-NORMAN    PERIOD    (1066-1360)  53 

Four  notable  poems  have  come  down  to  us  in  the  same 
manuscript,  and  it  is  believed  by  some  that  they  are  all  the 
work  of  a  single  poet.  If  this  could  be  finally  es-  An  unknown 
tablished,  we  should  have  a  new  and  important  ^°^^ 
figure  in  the  literature  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Without 
accepting  it  as  proved,  we  may  venture  to  consider  the 
poems  together.  Sir  Gaivaync  and  the  Grcnc  KnigJit  is  an 
Arthurian  story  and  one  of  the  very  best  of  the 

•'  ■'  Gawayne  and 

old  romances.  It-represents  a  group  of  works  in  thecrene 
which  there  was  a  revival  of  the  old  alliterative  °'^  ^ 
metre.  It  also  unites  with  its  romantic  character  a  true  relig- 
ious spirit.  A  gigantic  Green  Knight  challenges  any  of  Ar- 
thur's knights  to  strike  at  him  with  his  a.\e  and  to  endure  a 
stroke  in  return.  His  head  is  smitten  off  by  Gawayne,  but  he 
calmly  picks  it  up  again,  challenges  Gawayne  to  meet  him 
at  the  Green  Chapel  on  the  ne.xt  New  Year's  Day,  and 
disappears.  Gawayne  meets  with  a  variety  of  adven- 
tures, is  subjected  to  various  temptations,  and  comes  at 
last  to  the  rendezvous.  The  Green  Knight  is  unable  to 
do  him  serious  injury  because  he  has  been  faithful  and 
true;  but  because  he  has  been  weak  in  one  particu- 
lar, he  receives  a  slight  wound.  The  story  is  almost  in 
the  nature  of  a  religious  allegory.  For  originality,  vivid- 
ness of  narrative  and  description,  feeling  for  nature,  and 
high  moral  tone,  it  is  far  superior  to  most  works  of  its 
class.  TJic  Pearl  appears  to  be  a  lament  of  the  poet 
over  the  loss  of  his   little   daughter.      lie  sees    „^  „    , 

"  The  Pearl 

and  talks  with  her  in  a  strange  and  wonder- 
ful land.  From  the  other  side  of  a  beautiful  river  she 
endeavors  to  console  him  with  the  thought  of  her  life 
in  heaven  and  of  their  future  reunion  there.  Trying  to 
cross  over  the  river,  he  awakes.  Not  only  is  the  work 
genuinely  poetical,  but  it  also  is  full  f)f  pathos  and  of 
personal  quality.  The  allegory  may  be  sometimes  over- 
drawn, but  in  the  main  it  is  both  beautiful  and  imagina- 


54 


RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE   (1066-1500) 


tive.     Cleanness  is   the    title   of  a  poem  whose  aim  is  to 
exalt  the  virtue  of  purity.     It  enforces  the  vir- 

Cleanness  . 

tue  by  the  use  of  various  Bible  stories  which 
it  handles  in  vigorous  and  poetic  fashion.  Somewhat  simi- 
lar in  manner,  but  less  valuable  as  poetry,  is 
Patience  Patience.  It  is  chiefly  occupied  with  the  story 
of  Jonah  ;  and  the  storm  is  treated  in  a  vividly  realistic 
way. 

This  group  of  poems  fittingly  closes  t)ur  survey  of  the 
Anglo-Norman  Period.  Here  is  found  the  union  of  the 
Close  of  the  *^^  streams  of  religion  and  romance.  Here 
Period  the  English  and  the  Norman  spirit  meet  upon 

common  ground.  Here  is  really  excellent  poetry,  giving 
promise  of  the  masterwork  soon  to  appear  in  English 
literature  for  the  first  time.  While  there  is  no  marked 
break  in  literary  history  at  this  point,  nevertheless  the 
period  that  is  characterized  by  two  distinct  streams  of 
national  and  literary  life  is  practically  at  an  end ;  and  we 
are  at  the  beginning  of  a  generation  which  is  to  produce 
poetic  work  that  will  demonstrate  the  literary  possibilities 
of  the  union  of  English  and  Norman  genius. 


Lady  Chapel,  Glastonbury 

Built  1184-1189 


^^»^E^g^^^^ii^g.^gwg^»^^pgijjj^^^gjitp?>#^ 


Geoffrey  Chaucer 

EUesmere  Manuscript  of  Canterbury  Tales 


cn.\rTi:R  v 

THE    AGE  OK   CIIALCKR  (1360- 1400) 

The  Age  of  Chaucer  is  like  a  hi<;h  table-land  to  which 
we  ascend  as  by  a  long  and  gradual  slope  through  the  lit- 
erature of  the  previous  period  and  from  which  The  Age  of 
we  descend  again  somewhat  abruptly  to  the  chaucer 
literature  of  the  period  that  follows.  It  is  hardly  forcing 
the  figure  to  say  that  Chaucer  himself  rises  from  the  midst 
of  this  table-land  like  a  single,  lonely  peak,  unmatched  and 
almost  unapproached.  This  is  not  to  suggest  that  the  age 
is  separated  by  any  gulf  from  what  goes  before  and  after. 
Quite  the  contrary  is  the  case.  The  literary  development 
is  continuous,  and  what  we  have  now  reached  is  not  so 
much  different  as  it  is  higher  and  better. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as  dur- 
ing the  two  centuries  preceding,  religion  and  romance 
are  still  the  guiding  impulses  of  English  litera-  Religion  and 
ture.  Life  is  growing  morecomple.x,  and  many  ^°™*°" 
minor  influences  are  making  themselves  felt;  the  two  great 
impulses  are  no  longer  so  easily  separable  as  before ;  but 
these  two  impulses  are  still  operative  and  still  dominant. 
Indeed,  the  two  literary  tendencies  which  we  have  traced 
through  the  previous  period  may  be  said  to  find  here  their 
culmination.  The  religious  literature,  which  began  with 
the  Moral  Ode  and  the  Onnuliiut,  and  which  ran  through 
such  works  as  the  Orison  of  our  Lady,  (icucsis  and  I'lxodiis, 
the  Bestiary,  the  Ancnti  Ri'wlc,  Rf)bert  Manning's  Iland- 
lytii^c  Synm\  the  Cursor  Mitudi,  Richard  of  Ilampolc's 
Pride  of  Conseieucr,  the  Ayeubite  of  /nicif,  C/eanness, 
Patienec,  and    The  Pearl,  is  now  to  find  a  higher  cxempli- 

55 


56  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

fication  in  the  works  of  Langland  and  Wyclif.  The 
romantic  literature,  which  began  with  Layamon's  Brut, 
and  which  ran  through  such  works  as  Sir  Tristrem, 
Havclok  the  Datie,  King  Horn,  the  great  Cycles  of 
Romance,  and  Sir  Gazvayne  and  the  Grenc  Ktiight,  is  about 
to  find  a  natural  sequence  in  Gower  and  great  poetic 
expression  in  Chaucer.  How  far  religion  and  romance 
remain  separate  and  how  far  they  become  united  in  their 
literary  influence,  we  shall  have  occasion  to  see. 

We  shall  no  longer  have  to  take  account  of  the  difference 
of  races,  for  Englishmen  and  Normans  have  now  become 
People  and  welded  into  one  great  English  people,  stronger 
Language  ^^j.  ^ction  and  better  endowed  for  literary 
creation  because  of  the  mingled  blood.  The  duality  of 
language,  too,  has  passed  or  is  rapidly  passing  away ;  and 
the  newer  English,  blending  the  might  of  two  great  tongues, 
is  displaying  its  splendid  powers  as  an  instrument  of  liter- 
ary expression.  It  is  to  be  in  large  measure  the  task  of 
this  generation  to  rescue  English  from  the  chaos  of  dialects 
and  to  create  for  all  time  a  great  standard  speech. 

One  of    the  greatest    personalities  of  the    age  is  John 

Wychf.     He  is  famous  not  alone  because  of  his  literary 

work ;  for  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  name  belongs 

Wyclif  ,  ° 

even  more  to  the  history  of  religion  and  religious 
thought  than  to  the  history  of  literature.  He  was  first  of 
all  a  great  theologian.  At  the  age  of  forty  or  earlier,  he 
was  master  of  BaUiol  College  at  Oxford  and  one  of  the 
recognized  theological  scholars  of  his  time.  After  occupy- 
ing various  positions  in  school  and  church,  he  became 
vicar  of  Lutterworth  and  occupied  that  benefice  until  his 
death  in  1384.  Not  merely  as  a  theologian  and  a  church- 
man, however,  does  he  claim  our  attention.  A  man  of 
pure  life  and  lofty  character,  filled  with  an  intense  religious 
zeal,  he  became  the  first  great  rehgious  reformer.  All  his 
great  learning  was  devoted  to  vigorous  and  at  times  violent 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER   (1360-1400)  57 

controversv.  His  enemies  abused  him  for  his  doctrines, 
deprived  him  of  his  preferments"  and  once  summoned  him 
to  appear  at  St.  Paul's  in  London  to  answer  to  a  charge 
of  heresy.  Many  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  time  were 
divided  into  parties  for  or  against  him.  One  of  his  strong- 
est partisans  was  John  of  Gaunt,  the  great  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster, son  of  Edward  III.  Opposition  only  moved  him  to  a 
greater  activity,  and  his  work  became  more  aggressive  and 
more  practical.  His  "  poor  priests  "  went  throughout  Eng- 
land, preaching  the  gospel,  inculcating  the  new  doctrines, 
crying  out  against  formalism  and  luxury  and  corruption 
in  the  church,  and  exhorting  men  to  purer  life  and  faith. 
His  followers  were  known  as  Lollards.  They  were  the 
Protestants  and  Puritans  of  their  day  and  the  forerunners 
of  the  great  movement  which  we  call  the  Reformation. 

It  is  through  this  religious  activity  that  Wyclif  enters 
into  literature.  He  wrote  theological  works  in  Latin  and 
many  sermons,  tracts,  and  pamphlets  in  English.  wyciifsLit 
Most  important  of  all,  he  planned  and  in  large  erarywork 
measure  personally  executed  a  complete  translation  of  the 
Bible.  By  virtue  of  these  works,  he  takes  rank  as  the 
greatest  English  prose-writer  of  his  century  and  as  one 
who  either  directly  or  indirectly  influenced  prose  style  for 
some  two  hundred  years.  The  various  translations  of  the 
Bible  are  a  most  important  part  of  English  literature ;  and 
Wyclif's  right  to  rank  as  one  of  the  great  translators  is 
beyond  dispute.  He  was  not  a  great  literary  artist,  but 
he  played  a  distinguished  part  in  the  history  of  English 
thought  and  in  the  development  of  English  prose  as  a 
medium  of  literary  exj)ression.  By  virtue  of  the  fact  that 
he  wrote  and  translated  in  order  to  bring  home  to  the  com- 
mon people  the  truths  of  religion,  his  style  is  simple, 
vigorous,  and  picturesque.  His  severe  theological  train- 
ing served  to  make  it  also  clear,  logical,  and  accurate.  It 
is  the  union,  therefore,  of  trained  intelligence,  intense  re- 


58  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE   (1066-1500)    ^ 

ligious  fervor,  and  popular  purpose  that  has  made  his  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible  our  first  great  monument  of  English  prose. 
Even  more  unique  than  the  figure  of  Wyclif  is  that  of 
William  Langland.     Of  his  life  and  personality,  we  know 
very  little.     Some  hints  in  his  poem  may  possi- 

Langland  ,  ,        .  ,  , 

bly  be  interpreted  as  autobiographic ;  and  on 
the  basis  of  these,  it  has  been  customary  to  construct  a 
more  or  less  imaginative  picture  of  the  man.  According 
to  the  traditional  view,  he  seems  to  have  been  born  at 
Cleobury  Mortimer  in  Shropshire  and  to  have  been  given 
a  fair  degree  of  education.  Perhaps  as  early  as  1362,  he 
wrote  the  first  version  of  his  famous  Vision  of  William 
co7iceniing  Piers  the  Plowman.  Then  he  went  to  London, 
where  he  lived  a  precarious  and  somewhat  discontented 
life,  probably  holding  some  minor  ofifice  in  the  church. 
About  1378,  he  revised  his  poem  and  enlarged  it  to  three 
times  its  previous  size.  Later,  he  returned  to  the  West  of 
England,  and  again,  about  1393,  rewrote  his  poem  with 
many  changes.  He  had  much  of  Wyclif 's  religious  inten- 
sity and  puritanical  spirit,  but  he  was  not  a  theological 
scholar  and  probably  not  a  Lollard.  There  is  an  element 
of  bitterness  and  misanthropy  in  his  work  which  makes 
it  somewhat  sombre.  The  most  interesting  feature  of  his 
character  is  his  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  oppressed, 
and  his  earnest  desire  to  better  their  condition  and  to  lead 
them  to  a  truer  religious  life.  He  was  a  religious  re- 
former, but  his  concern  was  not  so  much  with  doctrine 
as  with  practical  living. 

The  three  versions  of  Langland's  poem  differ  greatly 
from  each  other.  This  variation,  together  with  the  fact 
that  Langland,  though  a  real  poet,  was  but  a  poor  literary 
architect,  makes  it  somewhat  difificult  to  present  briefly 
Piers  the  ^  clear  Statement  of  the  contents  of  the  work. 
Plowman  ^\iQ  poem  is  a  vision,  or  rather  a  series  of 
visions.     The  poet  imagines  himself  as  falling  asleep  on 


THE   AGE    OF   CHAUCER   {1360-1400)  59 

a  May  morning  in  the  Malvern  Hills,  near  his  home.  In 
his  dream,  he  sees  a  "fair  field  full  of  folk,"  carrying  on 
the  various  activities  of  the  world.  All  are  seeking  their 
own  selfish  ends  and  courting  the  favor  of  Lady  Meed, 
or  Reward.  She  is  the  daughter  of  Falsehood  and  the 
promised  bride  of  F"lattery.  Conscience  and  Reason  arc 
both  hostile  to  her,  and  she  stands  in  marked  contrast 
with  another  fair  lady  called  Holy  Church.  It  was  an 
evil  world  that  Langland  saw,  a  world  full  of  selfishness, 
of  treachery,  of  dishonesty,  and  of  all  manner  of  wrong. 
Through  a  scries  of  pictures  continually  dissolving  the  one 
into  the  other,  he  continues  his  description.  The  treat- 
ment is  allegorical,  yet  the  allegorical  figures  arc  mingled 
with  real  human  personages,  and  both  classes  seem  to  stand 
upon  an  even  footing.  The  chief  character  is  Piers  the  Plow- 
man. At  first  he  is  a  simple  plowman,  type  of  the  humble 
and  laborious  poor.  Then  he  is  conceived  as  the  faithful 
and  lowly  Christian,  living  a  godly  life  himself  and  en- 
deavoring to  lead  others  to  the  truth.  Finally,  he  is 
exalted  into  a  type  of  Christ,  opposing  the  corrupt 
priesthood  of  the  age  and  striving  to  bring  men  to  a  true 
knowledge  of  the  way  of  salvation.  This  confusion  with 
reference  to  the  hero  of  the  poem  is  a  fair  example  of 
Langland's  desultory  method  and  lack  of  literary  art. 
He  simply  pours  out  into  his  poem,  in  vigorous  and 
imaginative  fashion,  whatever  he  has  to  say  concerning 
the  degraded  life  and  false  religion  of  his  time  and  con- 
cerning the  way  in  which  men  may  be  saved  from  their 
sins.  Three  of  his  favorite  allegorical  figures  are  Do- 
well,  Do-bet,  and  Do-best,  typifying  the  three  stages  by 
which  men  may  ascend  to  true  godliness.  They  represent 
the  poet's  view  that  faith  without  works  is  dead,  and  that 
men  need  to  have  preached  to  them  the  doctrine  of  an 
honest,  industrious,  and  godly  life  as  the  way  to  salvation. 
The  poet  is,  in  the  main,  orthodox  in  his  faith  ;  and  in  spite 


6o  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE   (106^1500) 

of  his  gloomy  view  of  the  life  of  his  day,  he  believes  in  the 
ultimate  triumph  of  righteousness.  One  of  his  finest  pas- 
sages is  that  in  which  he  describes  the  victory  of  Piers  the 
Plowman,  now  conceived  as  Christ,  over  Death  and  Hell, 
The  Vision  is  in  some  sense  a  work  of  genius.  Its  vivid 
imagination,  its  note  of  intense  personal  feeling,  its  right- 
character  of  ^o^^s  indignation  against  the  social  and  political 
the  Poem  ^^^  religious  evils  of  the  time,  its  spirit  of  lofty 
aspiration,  its  graphic  and  realistic  pictures  of  human  life, 
its  occasional  outbursts  of  fine  poetry  —  all  help  to  make 
it  a  really  remarkable  work.  What  more  than  anything 
else  it  lacks  is  a  definite  and  orderly  plan  —  that  order, 
proportion,  arrangement,  unity,  which  constitute  a  true 
literary  whole.  Its  form  is  scarcely  less  noteworthy  than  its 
matter.  It  is  written  in  the  old  alliterative  measure  which 
had  been  characteristic  of  Anglo-Saxon  verse  and  which 
had  been  revived  in  several  poems  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
In  this  respect,  as  well  as  in  its  religious  feeling,  it  is 
thoroughly  English.  French  metrical  forms,  including 
rhyme,  are  here  ignored.  With  Langland,  the  antique 
measure  is  heard  for  the  last  time.  Since  his  day  all  Eng- 
lish poetry  has  been  metrical  and  not  alliterative.  A  few 
lines  from  the  latter  part  of  his  poem  will  give  a  taste  of 
its  quality : 

A-rys,  and  go  reuerence     godes  resurreccioun, 

And  creop  on  kneos  to  the  croys     and  cusse  hit  for  a  luvvel, 

And  ryghtfullokest  a  relyk     non  riccher  on  erthe. 

For  godes  blesside  body     hit  bar  for  oure  bote, 

And  hit  a-fereth  the  feonde     for  such  is  the  myghte, 

May  no  grysliche  gost     glyde  ther  hit  shadeweth  ! 

A  writer  in  strong  contrast  with  Langland,  both  in  char- 
acter and    in   genius,   is  John   Gower.      "Moral  Gower " 
Chaucer  called  him,  and  the  phrase  has  been 
current  from  that  day  to  this.     The  moralizing 
tendency    of    Gower's    work   is,  indeed,    one   of  its   most 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  61 

marked  qualities.  Moralizing  poetry  is  apt  to  be  both 
prosaic  and  tedious,  and  Gower's  is  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  Few  poets  are  more  prosy,  and  "  the  old  man 
tedious "  is  one  of  his  nicknames.  His  three  principal 
works  illustrate  the  uncertainty  of  the  poet  and  of  his  age 
as  to  what  was  finally  to  be  the  literary  language  of  Eng- 
land. The  first  of  these,  the  Speculum  Mcditantis,  was 
written  in  French.  It  was  for  a  long  time  lost,  but  has 
recently  been  found  and  edited.  It  is  a  long  moral  poem 
un  the  vices  and  virtues.  His  second  work,  the  Vox 
Clamantis,  was  written  in  Latin.  It  deals  with  the  polit- 
ical conditions  of  the  time,  including  the  revolt  of  the 
peasants  under  Wat  Tyler.  Gower,  as  an  aristocrat  and 
as  a  landholder  in  Kent,  had  suffered  from  this  rising, 
and  wrote  in  a  spirit  of  contemptuous  hostility  to  the 
peasants.  His  third  and  most  important  work,  the  Cou- 
fissio  Aviantis,  was  written  in  English.  It  is  professedly 
the  confession  of  a  lover  to  an  allegorical  personage  named 
Genius,  and  consists  of  a  series  of  tales  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion. Some  of  these  stories,  notably  that  of  the  Knight 
Florent  —  afterward  handled  by  Chaucer  in  the  Wife  of 
Batlis  Talc — are  well  told  ;  but  most  of  them  are  charac- 
terized by  tediousness  and  by  what  one  writer  has  called 
"merciless  and  heart-breaking  long-windedness."  In  spite 
of  all  limitations,  Gower  is  for  his  time  a  really  noteworthy 
writer.  He  illustrates  both  the  religious  and  the  romantic 
tendencies  of  his  age.  He  was  more  original  than  most 
of  his  predecessors,  and  taught  his  age  some  important 
literary  lessons.  As  a  professed  and  industrious  man  of 
letters,  he  brought  together  a  mass  of  literary  material 
that  was  full  of  suggestion  to  later  poets.  While  less  of 
a  genius  than  Langland,  he  was  more  of  a  literary  artist. 
His  chief  defects  seem  to  have  been  a  certain  nerveless- 
ness  or  lack  of  vigor  and  a  fatal  inability  t<»  understand 
when  he  had  said  enough.      His  Coufcssio  Atnautis  is,  like 


62  RELIGION    AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  a  collection  of  stories  ;  and 
while  Gower  is  in  almost  every  way  vastly  inferior  to  his 
great  contemporary,  he  at  least  deserves  to  be  named  with 
Chaucer  as  a  coworker  in  the  same  literary  field. 

Geoffrey  Chaucer  is  the  one  great  landmark  of  all  Eng- 
lish literature  before  the  beginning  of  its  modern  epoch  in 
the  later  years  of  the  sixteenth  century.     There 

Chaucer's  ,     •'  -' 

Historical  is  nothing  to  compare  with  his  work  in  the  long 
centuries  that  went  before  him ;  there  is  nothing 
to  compare  with  it  for  nearly  two  centuries  after  his  death 
in  1400.  His  position  is  singular  and  unique.  With  him, 
the  old  period  closes ;  and  with  him,  the  great  literature 
of  modern  England  in  a  sense  begins,  although  it  is  long 
before  any  others  appear  who  are  capable  of  following  his 
leadership  and  carrying  on  his  work  in  new  and  original 
ways.  From  his  lofty  height,  he  is  a  herald  of  the  dawn, 
but  it  is  still  many  hours  to  the  full  break  of  day.  He 
appears  to  us  at  first  like  a  great  literary  figure  standing 
isolated ;  and,  indeed,  he  is  so  in  the  sense  that  he  has  no 
near  neighbors  of  anything  like  his  own  stature.  Yet  we 
do  not  easily  associate  the  idea  of  isolation  with  the  name 
of  Chaucer.  He  was  in  his  own  time  a  man  among  men, 
open  on  many  sides  to  the  human  influences  about  him. 
He  was,  too,  an  organic  part  of  the  literary  development 
of  the  whole  Middle  English  Period.  In  him,  the  literary 
tendencies  of  two  centuries  culminate  and  find  their  su- 
preme expression.  We  have  already  observed,  and  shall 
have  occasion  to  see  further,  that  the  romantic  literature 
of  the  Middle  Ages  was  a  necessary  preparation  for 
Chaucer's  infinitely  greater  achievements  in  the  field  of 
romantic  poetry.  He  took  up  the  work  of  the  old  ro- 
mancers and  showed  what  such  literature  might  be  in  the 
hands  of  a  master.  Then,  gradually  learning  his  art  and 
maturing  his  genius,  he  went  beyond  anything  that  they 
had  taught  him  and  produced  the  poetry  that  still  makes 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER   (i 360-1400)  63 

him  a  power  in  the  world.  Chaucer  also  has  his  associa- 
tions with  the  religious  sentiment  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
He  was  not  distinctively  a  religious  poet,  but  he  was  a 
man  of  religious  nature  and  sympathies.  1  le  directs  his 
genial  satire  against  the  religious  abuses  of  his  day ;  he 
draws  an  immortal  picture  of  a  good  parish  priest ;  he 
knows  how  to  tell  a  religious  story  with  full  appreciation 
of  medi:eval  feeling  and  with  a  poet's  delight  in  all  the 
beauty  and  pathos  of  his  subject.  In  many  ways,  he 
gathers  up  the  past  and  enshrines  it  for  all  time  in  his 
great  verse.  No  other  English  poet  has  preserved  for 
us  so  much  of  the  life  and  sentiment  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Still  more  emphatically  is  it  true  that  Chaucer's  work 
embodies  the  many-sided  life  of  his  own  time.  He  was 
in  touch  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  ;  and  they 
reappear  in  his  pages  as  living  types.  We  know  their 
faces  and  we  know  their  souls.  With  the  future,  too, 
Chaucer  has  vital  connection.  For  nearly  a  century  after 
his  death,  he  was  recognized  as  literary  master  and  model. 
For  us  he  still  has  a  historical  significance  because  of  the 
permanent  gains  which  his  work  achieved  for  the  litera- 
ture and  the  language.  More  than  any  other  one  man, 
he  helped  to  determine  the  modern  standard  of  English 
speech ;  with  inevitable  changes,  it  is  still  Chaucer's  dia- 
lect that  we  speak  to-day.  Scarcely  less  important  was 
his  influence  in  furnishing  literary  models,  in  revealing 
literary  possibilities,  in  establishing  a  literary  tradition, 
and  in  affording  literary  inspiration.  Few  of  our  greatest 
writers  have  altogether  escaped  his  influence.  Dryden 
calls  him  "the  father  of  English  poetry."  Tennyson 
speaks  of  him  as 

The  morning  star  of  song,  who  made 
His  music  heard  below; 

Dan  Chaucer,  tlie  first  warbler,  whose  sweet  breath 
Preluded  th<jse  melodious  bursts  tliatfill 


64  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

The  spacious  times  of  great  Elizabeth 
With  sounds  that  echo  still. 

Chaucer  is  great,  not  only  by  historical  position,  but  also 

by  individual  genius.     Many  men  hold  a  place  in  the  history 

of  the  literature  because  they  are  among  the  few 

Ch3.ucGr's 

Personal  important  figures  of  their  time  or  because  they 
mpor  ance  ^^^  representative  of  an  interesting  stage  of  liter- 
ary development.  Chaucer  is  all  this,  but  his  fame  does 
not  rest  upon  any  such  considerations.  Regardless  of  all 
merely  historical  estimates,  the  intrinsic  merit  of  his  work 
gives  him  a  place  among  the  few  greatest  poets  of  Eng- 
land, It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  is  one  of  the  great 
poets  of  the  world ;  and  if  he  may  not  quite  stand  with  the 
few  supreme  world  poets,  it  is  only  of  that  crowning  honor 
that  he  falls  short.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  he  has  no 
superior  save  Dante ;  and  if  Dante  is  more  sublime, 
Chaucer  is  at  least  more  human.  Indeed,  in  this  thor- 
oughly human  quality  of  his  best  work,  he  yields  to  Shake- 
speare alone.  That  this  estimate  of  Chaucer's  rank  is 
not  exaggerated,  may  be  attested  by  the  universal  apprecia- 
tion which  he  has  received  for  five  centuries.  The  fifteenth 
century  was  filled  with  his  name.  In  the  age  of  Elizabeth, 
he  was  praised  or  imitated  by  such  men  as  Spenser,  Sidney, 
Shakespeare,  and  Fletcher.  Milton  lauded  him  ;  and  even 
in  the  age  of  classicism,  he  was  highly  appreciated  by 
Dryden  and  Pope.  The  nineteenth  century  has  endorsed 
this  judgment  by  the  mouths  of  its  greatest  poets  and 
critics ;  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Chaucer's  fame  has  never 
stood  higher  than  it  does  to-day. 

Chaucer  was  born  in  London,  probably  about  1340. 
His  father  was  a  vintner,'or  wine-merchant,  and  the  family 
Chaucer's  was,  therefore,  of  the  well-to-do  middle  class. 
^^^^  There  was  sufficient  court  interest,  however,  to 

secure  for  Chaucer  a  position  — -  probably  that  of  a  page  — 
in  the  household  of  Elizabeth,  wife  of  Lionel,  Duke  of 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  65 

Clarence,  the  third  son  of  King  Edward  III.     In  the  retinue 
of  Prince  Lionel,  he  went  in  1359  with  the  English  army 
to  France,  and  doubtless  had  opportunity  to  observe  the 
"  pride,  pomp,  and    circumstance   of   glorious  war  "  as  it 
was  waged  in  the  mediceval  time.     He  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  taken  prisoner,  but  was  ransomed  by  the  king.     After 
his  return  to  England,  he  was  for  a  time  valet  of  the  king's 
bedchamber.     Chaucer's  association  with  the  court  was,  of 
course,  an  important  part  of  his  education.     As  a  page   he 
would  be  carefully  trained  and  taught  in  the  company  of 
other  boys  of  higher  rank  than  his  own  ;  and  the  life  of 
the  court  would  give  unsurpassed  opportunity  for  refine- 
ment, observation,  and  wide  knowledge  of  men  and  things. 
It  need  hardly  be  added  that  such  a  life  would  be  full  of 
suggestion  to  the   imagination  of  a  young  poet.     Chaucer 
did  not  receive  a  university  education,  but  he  had  the  best 
possible  substitute  for  it  and  what  was    for   his    purpose 
perhaps    superior.     That   he  was    a    broad    and    careful 
scholar  is  sufficiently  shown  by  his  works  ;  and  these  reveal 
also  that  he  was  even  more  deeply  versed  in  human  life 
than  in  scholastic  learning.     His  further  education  was  no 
less  practical.     Between   1370  and   1380,  he  was  sent  on 
various  diplomatic  missions  to  the    continent.     Twice  he 
visited  Italy.     It    is  easy    and   pleasant   to    indulge    the 
imagination  with  fancies  of  Chaucer's  delighted  apprecia- 
tion of  the  beauties  of  Italian  art  and   his  congenial  asso- 
ciation with  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  and  other  great  men  who 
were  then  living ;  but  these  are  mere  fancies.     We    may 
be  reasonably  certain  that  his  visits  must  have  been  a  joy 
and  an  inspiration  to  such  a  nature.     We  know  that  his 
genius  and  his  work  were  powerfully  affectetl  by  Italian 
literary  models.     At  home  he  was  appointed  controller  of 
customs,  retaining  his  office  for  some    twelve  years.     In 
1386,  he  became  member  of  Parliament  for  Kent,  but  his 
political  career  was  brief  and  rather  unfortunate.     Later 


66  RELIGION   AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

we  find  him  acting  as  clerk  of  the  king's  works  at  West- 
minster and  at  Windsor.  Toward  the  close  of  his  life, 
Chaucer  seems  to  have  fallen  into  poverty.  On  the  acces- 
sion of  Henry  IV,  in  1399,  he  wrote  a  "complaint  to  his 
empty  purse,"  which  he  addressed  to  the  king  in  these  words: 

O  conquerour  of  Brutes  Albioun, 
Which  that  by  lyne  and  free  eleccioun 
Ben  verray  king,  this  song  to  you  I  sende ; 
And  ye,  that  mowen  al  our  harm  amende, 
Have  minde  upon  my  supplicacioun. 

The  appeal  was  successful ;  and  Chaucer's  pension  was 
doubled,  thus  placing  him  in  comfortable  circumstances 
for  the  few  remaining  months  of  his  life.  He  died  in  1400, 
and  was  buried  in  the  Poets'  Corner  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

The  first  period  of  Chaucer's  hterary  life  was  one  of 
imitation  and  of  training  in  the  poetic  art.  During  this 
time,  before  his  first  visit  to  Italy  in  1372,  he  was  essen- 
chaucer's  tially  mediaeval  in  temper,  a  follower  of  French 
French  Period  ^lodels  and  methods.  He  wrote  many  songs 
and  ballads,  and  translated  or  imitated  mediaeval  allegori- 
cal romances.  Little  or  nothing  of  these  has  been  pre- 
served, but  such  work  gave  him  his  early  discipline  as  a 
poet.  His  most  important  work  of  this  period  was  his 
Dethe  of  BlanncJie  the  Duchesse,  written  on  the  death  of 
the  wife  of  John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  son  of 
Edward  III.  She  died  in  1369,  and  the  poem  probably 
belongs  to  that  year.  John  of  Gaunt  was  Chaucer's  patron, 
and  the  poem  was  written  to  console  him  in  his  bereave- 
ment. It  is  based  on  the  familiar  conception  of  a  dream  ; 
and  although  it  contains  some  good  poetry,  it  is  distinctly 
imitative  in  manner. 

Chaucer's  second  period  followed  his  sojourn  in  Italy, 
and  is  characterized  by  the  prevalence  in  his  work  of 
Italian  influences.     The  French  mediaeval  spirit  does  not 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  67 

entirely  disappear  from  his  writings,  but  it  is  more  and 
more  subordinated  as  iiis  genius  ripens  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  fresher  and  finer  inspiration.  His  chaucer-s 
new  models  are  in  their  way  as  romantic  as  "^'i^n  Penod 
the  old,  and  Chaucer  still  continues  to  be  a  romantic 
poet ;  but  the  romance  is  less  conventional,  less  artificial, 
less  strained  in  its  allegory.  The  best  poem  of  this  period 
is  Troilns  atid  Criscydc,  a  romance  of  false  love  which 
carries  us  back  to  the  siege  of  Troy.  It  is  based  upon  a 
long  poem  of  Boccaccio^  and  is  therefore  professedly  an 
imitation.  Nevertheless,  Chaucer  in  many  ways  shows  his 
growing  originality.  The  characters  are  conceived  in  his 
own  way,  and  are  really  lifelike  presentations  of  human 
motive  and  action.  The  story  is  well  told,  although 
Chaucer  has  not  yet  attained  his  later  skill  in  direct  and 
rapid  narration.  The  Parlcmciit  of  Fotilcs  is  an  allegorical 
poem  suggested  by  the  betrothal  of  Richard  II  and  Anne 
of  Bohemia.  In  it  the  birds  are  gathered  in  assembly  to 
decide  which  of  three  lovers  shall  be  the  successful  suitor 
for  a  female  eagle.  The  eagle  is,  of  course,  Anne  and  the 
successful  wooer  Richard.  It  is  one  of  the  best  of  Chau- 
cer's shorter  poems.  In  the  Hons  of  Favic,  Chaucer  has 
a  vision  in  which  he  is  carried  by  an  eagle  to  the  temple  of 
Fame.  There  are  carved  on  ice  the  famous  names  of  the 
world  ;  and  under  the  rays  of  the  sun,  they  are  gradually 
melting  away.  The  names  of  the  great  ancients  are  in  the 
shade  and  therefore  have  been  longest  j)reserved.  The 
poem  is  generally  sujjposed  to  show  tlie  influence  of 
Dante.  Still  another  poem  of  this  perioil  is  the  Legend 
of  Good  Wot)ic)i.  It  presents  a  series  of  stories  drawn 
from  classical  sources  and  dealing  with  famous  women 
who  have  sacrificed  everything  in  order  to  prove  their 
faithfulness  in  love.  This  poem  was  written  about  1385, 
and  probably  marks  the  period  at  which  Chaucer  had 
finally  attained  his  full  poetic  pcjwer. 


68  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

During  his  first  and  second  periods,  Chaucer  was  a 
follower  of  mediaeval  and  foreign  models.  During  his 
third  period,  including  about  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his 
life,  he  is,  in  the  main,  thoroughly  EngHsh  and 
English  origmal.  He  is  still  a  romantic  poet,  but  there 
is  also  in  his  work  a  large  element  of  reahsm. 
He  exercises  to  the  full  his  great  gift  of  poetic  imagi- 
nation ;  but  he  has  developed  also  a  wonderful  power  of 
observation,  and  he  writes  with  his  eye  on  the  object. 
The  crowning  work  of  his  life  grows  out  of  the  life  around 
him  and  out  of  his  insight  into  English  character.  His 
previous  literary  experience  has  taught  him  the  art  of  the 
narrator;  and  his  skill  as  a  story-teller  becomes  now  the 
basis  for  his  wonderful  portrayals  of  men  and  women. 
Up  to  this  time  he  has  been  merely  bettering  the  example 
set  by  other  men.  Now  he  is  to  do  something  entirely 
new  and  original,  something  which  in  its  kind  has  never 
been  surpassed.  The  great  work  of  this  period,  Chaucer's 
masterpiece  and  one  of  the  great  masterpieces  of  the 
literature,  is  the  Canterbury  Tales.  For  this  work,  Chau- 
cer had  been  preparing  through  most  of  his  literary  life. 
He  had  written  separate  stories  which,  in  revised  form, 
were  to  be  made  a  part  of  this  great  collection  of  stories. 
He  had  been  gathering  from  many  sources  the  materials 
and  the  knowledge  which  he  was  now  to  put  to  use. 
In  the  ripeness  of  his  years  and  in  the  fulness  of  his 
genius,  he  undertakes  a  task  which  he  is  never  to  finish, 
but  which,  in  its  present  form,  gives  little  sense  of  in- 
completeness. The  scheme  was  too  large  for  perfect  ac- 
complishment ;  but  it  was  of  such  a  character  that  perfect 
accomplishment  was  not  essential  to  full  success. 

The  plan  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  is  simple,  yet  wonder- 
fully effective  and    comprehensive.     The    poet 

Plan  of  the  ^  ^    .  ^ 

Canterbury     tclls  US  that  in  the  Springtime  of  the  year,  the 
folk  of  his  day  longed  to  go  on  pilgrimages,  and 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  69 

that  from  every  shire  of  England  they  were  accustomed 
to  journey  to  the  famous  shrine  of  St.  Thomas  a  Becket, 
in  the  cathedral  at  Canterbury, 

The  holy  hlisful  niartir  for  to  seke, 

That  hem  hath  holpen,  whan  that  they  were  seke. 

Seizing  on  this  custom  as  admirably  adapted  to  his 
purpose,  he  represents  himself  as  meeting  a  company  of 
such  pilgrims  gathered  by  chance  on  a  certain  day  at  the 
Tabard  Inn  in  Southwark,  then  a  village  at  the  south  end 
of  London  Bridge,  but  long  since  swallowed  up  in  the 
metropolis.  Chaucer  is  soon  in  fellowship  with  the  other 
pilgrims,  and  a  general  agreement  is  formed  that  they 
will  all  make  the  journey  together.  At  the  suggestion  of 
their  Host,  who  offers  to  accompany  them  and  to  act  as 
umpire,  it  is  arranged  that  each  of  the  pilgrims  shall  tell 
two  tales  on  the  way  to  Canterbury  and  two  more  on  the 
return  journey,  the  most  successful  story-teller  to  be  given 
a  supper  at  the  cost  of  the  others.  In  addition  to  a  long 
introduction  and  to  the  narrative  and  conversational  pas- 
sages which  serve  to  make  ])roper  transition  from  one  story 
to  another,  the  work  is  made  up  of  the  talcs  supposed  to 
have  been  related  by  various  pilgrims.  There  are  in  all 
twenty-four  stories,  told  by  twenty-three  different  persons. 
As  there  were,  including  the  poet,  thirty-one  pilgrims,  the 
whole  scheme  would  have  called  for  no  less  than  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-four  tales.  Of  course,  it  made  little  dif- 
ference how  many  or  how  few  stories  were  told  ;  and  the 
poet  evidently  wished  to  leave  himself  room  enough  for 
all  that  he  might  want  to  gather  into  the  great  collection. 

The  most  important  part  of  the  dxtitcrbiiry  Talcs,  the 
master-product  of  Chaucer's  genius,  is  the  Prologue.  I  lere 
he  gathers  his  pilgrims  at  the  Tabard   Inn  and 

iL  1       1  r         ^1  .  .^    !!•  The  Prologue 

presents  the  general   j)lan   for  the  story-telhng- 

What  is  more  important,   he  here  describes    most  of  his 


70  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

characters,  setting  them  forth  as  living  individuals  with  a 
skill  that  no  man  has  ever  surpassed.  In  comparatively 
few  words,  each  personage  is  sketched  so  that  we  perceive 
clearly  both  outward  appearance  and  inward  disposition. 
There  are  thirty  pilgrims  besides  the  poet ;  of  these, 
twenty-one  are  individually  described,  five  are  described  as 
a  group,  and  the  rest  are  simply  mentioned.  The  various 
characters  are  individual  men  and  women,  but  they  are 
also  significant  types,  broadly  representative  of  English 
life  in  the  fourteenth  century.  The  first  group  consists  of 
a  Knight,  of  a  Squire  his  son,  and  of  a  Yeoman  his  ser- 
vant. Then  there  are  various  representatives  of  the 
church  —  a  Prioress,  accompanied  by  a  Nun  who  was  her 
chaplain  and  by  three  Priests,  a  Monk,  a  Friar,  a  Sum- 
moner,  a  Pardoner,  and  a  poor  Parson.  A  number  of 
professional  men  are  in  the  company  —  a  Sergeant-at-Law, 
a  Doctor  of  Physic,  a  Manciple,  a  Clerk  of  Oxford.  Still 
another  group  represents  various  departments  of  trade 
and  commerce  —  a  Merchant,  a  Shipman,  a  Cook,  a  Wife 
of  Bath,  a  Haberdasher,  a  Carpenter,  a  Weaver,  a  Dyer, 
and  a  Maker  of  Tapestry.  The  list  is  completed  by  sev- 
eral representatives  of  agriculture  —  a  Franklin  or  country 
landholder,  a  Plowman,  a  Miller,  and  a  Reeve  or  steward. 
Not  only  does  Chaucer  describe  most  of  these  characters 
with  a  minute  realism,  but  in  many  cases  he  gathers 
up  the  significance  of  the  individual  into  some  brief 
and  suggestive  expression.  Thus,  of  the  Knight  he 
says  : 

He  was  a  verray  parfit  gentil  knight. 

Of  the  Squire, 

He  was  as  fresh  as  is  the  month  of  May. 
Of  the  Prioress, 

And  al  was  conscience  and  tendie  herte. 


>  > 

!  5 

=.  n 

=  > 

=•  z 

n  — 

^r; 


^■^?i«^ 


THE    AGE    OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  71 

Of  the  Friar, 

He  knew  the  tavernes  wel  in  every  toun. 
Of  the  Shipman, 

With  many  a  tempest  hadde  his  herd  been  shake. 
Of  the  Doctor  of  Physic, 

His  studie  was  but  litel  on  the  Bible. 
Of  the  poor  Parson, 

But  Cristes  lore,  and  his  apostles  twelve, 
He  taughte,  but  first  he  folwed  it  himselve. 

Chaucer's  full  power  in  sjraphic  description  can  be  appre- 
ciated only  from  reading  the  whole  Prologue ;  but  a  single 
complete  sketch  will  give  a  fair  specimen  of  his  art.  The 
description  of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford  is  one  of  the  best  of  the 
briefer  portraits : 

A  Clerk  ther  was  of  Oxenford  also, 

That  unto  logik  hadde  lontje  y-go. 

As  lene  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake, 

And  he  nas  nat  right  fat,  I  undertake ; 

But  loked  holwe,  and  thereto  soberly. 

Ful  thredbar  was  his  overest  courtepy ; 

For  he  had  geten  him  yet  no  benefyce, 

Ne  was  so  worldly  for  to  have  offyce. 

For  him  was  lever  have  at  his  bcddes  heed 

Twenty  bokes,  clad  in  blak  or  reed, 

Of  Aristotle  and  his  philosophye. 

Than  robes  richc,  or  fithele,  or  gay  sautrye. 

But  al  be  that  he  was  a  philosophre, 

Yet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  cofre ; 

But  al  that  he  mighte  of  his  frcendcs  hente, 

On  bokes  and  on  Icrninge  he  it  spentc, 

And  bisily  gan  for  the  soules  preye 

Of  hem  that  yaf  him  wherwith  to  scoleye. 

Of  studie  took  he  most  cure  and  most  hedc. 

Noght  o  word  spak  he  more  than  was  nede. 

And  that  w;ls  scyd  in  forme  and  reverence. 

And  short  and  (|uik,  and  fu!  uf  liy  sentence. 

.Souningr  in  moral  verlu  was  his  sjieche. 

And  gladly  wolde  he  lernc.  and  gladly  techc. 


72  RELIGION    AND    ROIVIANCE    (1066-1500) 

As  the  pilgrims  ride  out  toward  Canterbury  in  the  early 
morning,  Harry  Bailly,  the  Host,  reminds  them  of  their 
agreement,  and  calls  upon  them  to  draw  cuts  to 
see  who  shall  tell  the  first  tale.  The  lot  falls  to 
the  Knight,  who  thereupon  proceeds  to  tell  the  long  but 
interesting  story  of  Palamon  and  Arcite.  This  is  the  most 
famous  of  the  Canterb?try  Tales,  and  nowhere  does  Chaucer 
better  display  his  powers  of  narrative  and  description.  It 
is  a  romance  of  love  and  chivalry.  The  materials  were 
drawn  from  Boccaccio,  but  Chaucer  handles  them  with 
remarkable  freedom  and  originality.  If  the  story  seems 
somewhat  long  in  the  reading,  we  may  do  well  to  remem- 
ber that  Chaucer  has  compressed  it  into  little  more  than 
one-fifth  of  the  length  of  Boccaccio's  poem.  Not  only  is 
the  story  well  told  and  each  personage  well  portrayed,  but 
Chaucer  has  adapted  the  tale  thoroughly  to  the  Knight's 
chivalrous  and  high-bred  character.  This  same  adaptation 
is  found  in  the  other  stories  and  constitutes  a  large  part  of 
their  charm.  When  the  Knight  is  done,  the  Host  calls 
upon  the  Monk  for  the  next  tale ;  but  the  drunken  Miller 
insists  on  breaking  in  with  a  coarse  tale  of  his  own.  This 
angers  the  Reeve,  who  takes  revenge  by  telUng  a  similar 
story  of  which  a  miller  is  the  hero  —  or  victim.  This 
ribaldry  is  finally  broken  off  by  the  Host,  at  whose  request 
the  Sergeant-at-Law  tells  a  more  dignified  story,  the  ro- 
mantic narrative  of  Custance.  So  the  story-telling  pro- 
ceeds, with  entertaining  interludes  of  conversation  suitable 
to  the  characters  and  to  the  stories  introduced.  At  the 
courteous  solicitation  of  the  Host,  the  Prioress  tells  of 
little  St.  Hugh  of  Lincoln,  the  site  of  whose  shrine  is  still 
shown  in  Lincoln  Cathedral ;  this  Christian  child  has  been 
slain  in  a  Jewry,  but  though  his  throat  is  cut. 


He  "  Alma  redeiuptoris  "  gan  to  singe 
So  loude,  that  al  the  place  gan  to  ringe. 


THE   AGE   OF   CHAUCER    (1360-1400)  73 

The  company  is  sobered  by  this  miracle,  till  the  Host 
turns  jokingly  to  Chaucer  : 

"What  man  artow  ?"  quod  he; 
''  Thou  lokest  as  thou  woklcst  tinde  an  hare, 
For  ever  upon  the  ground  I  see  thee  stare. 
Approche  neer,  and  loke  up  merily. 
Now  war  vow.  sirs,  and  h\t  this  man  Iiavc  place; 
He  in  the  waast  is  shape  as  wel  as  I  ; 
This  were  a  popet  in  an  arm  fenbrace 
For  any  womman,  smal  and  fair  of  face. 
He  semeth  elvish  by  his  contenaunce. 
For  unto  no  wight  dooth  he  daHaunce. 
Sey  now  somwhat.  sin  other  folk  han  sayd ; 
Tel  us  a  tale  of  mirthe,  and  tliat  anoon." 

Thus  adjured,  Chaucer  begins  his  tale  of  Sir  Thopas,  a 
parody  on  the  romances  of  chivalry  prevalent  in  his  day. 
When  the  Most  impatiently  cuts  him  off,  he  offers  to 
"  telle  a  litel  thing  in  prose."  The  "  litel  thing  "  turns  out 
to  be  a  long  and  tedious  *'  moral  tale  vertuous  "  of  Meli- 
beus  and  his  wife  Prudence.  One  of  the  best  of  the  tales 
is  the  Nun's  Priest's  story  of  the  cock  who  has  been  seized 
by  a  fo.x  and  who  escapes  by  flattering  the  fo.x  into  stop- 
ping to  taunt  his  pursuers.  The  Wife  of  Bath,  after  a  long 
prologue,  tells  a  story  already  mentioned  as  occurring  in 
Gower's  Confessio  Aviantis.  The  Clerk  of  O.xford  relates 
the  pathetic  story  of  Patient  Griselda,  which  he  had 

Lerned  at  I'adowe  of  a  wortliy  clerk. 
♦  •  »  ♦  * 

Fraunceys  Petrark,  the  laureat  poete, 
Highte  tliis  clerk,  whos  rethoryke  sweete 
Enlumined  al  Itaille  of  poetrye. 

The  Talcs  conclude  with  a  long  and  tedious  prose  sermon 
by  the  Parson,  lie  began  near  sundown;  and  by  the 
time  he  was  through,  most  of  his  auditors  must  have  been 
ready  for  bed.  Perhaps  Chaucer  wished  to  make  amends 
at  the  close  of  the  day  for  any  frivolity  or  ribaldry  of  whiih 


74  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066- 1500) 

he  might  have  allowed  his  coarser  characters  to  be  guilty. 
We  may  well  forgive  him  for  his  prosy  ending,  in  view  of 
the  wonderful  variety,  fitness,  narrative  interest,  and  poetic 
power  of  his  great  collection  of  tales.  In  prose,  he  may 
be  tedious  and  cumbersome;  in  poetry,  and  especially  in 
narrative  poetry,  he  is  a  consummate  master. 

Much  of  what  is  most  characteristic  in  Chaucer's  genius 
has  already  been  suggested,  and  few  words  will  serve  by 
Character  of  ^^y  '^^  Summary.  He  was  a  strikingly  original 
Chaucer's       figure.     In  him  were  combined  the  competent 

Genius 

man  of  affairs  and  the  genuine  poet.  His  love 
of  nature  crops  out  here  and  there  all  through  his  poetry  ; 
it  was  not  conventional,  but  true  and  sincere.  No  man 
has  shown  greater  delight  in  life,  and  few  have  had  greater 
power  of  observation  and  insight.  The  Prologue  alone 
would  rank  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  humorists  —  a 
genial  spirit,  keenly  satirical  but  with  no  touch  of  bitter- 
ness. He  loved  beauty  like  a  true  poet,  and  he  had  that 
gift  of  creative  imagination  which  makes  a  poet  great. 
He  was  first  of  all  a  great  narrator,  with  the  power  of 
telling  either  a  romantic  or  a  realistic  tale  in  felicitous 
verse.  Few  men  have  ever  approached  his  skill  in  vivid 
and  lifelike  description.  In  the  ability  to  create  character, 
he  ranks  with  the  great  dramatists.  His  work  is  objective 
and  sound,  the  work  of  a  great  literary  artist  and  of  a 
thoroughly  sane  and  healthy  nature.  He  was  emphatically 
a  man  of  his  age,  but  he  is  no  less  truly  a  man  for  all 
time. 


hoUoft\)Cttoh\cm\iVooii 

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tUK&/  ?  l)oto  fpj  )Lyoneii  leftc  ff  ?  llau* 
Klotflcp^ngc^ttJasitabeti.  Caprm.r. 

j^onc  after  t^aet^e 

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fro  Borne  m  to  d^gj 

te0oUl)etoumable 
rcfojttcDtJnto^bpng 
ano  maoe  manp  uiHesf  ano  curncpmm 
te)S/$fomct^er(n)er(tt;a(SDrresooD 


fctipg^tciJ/SDljic^e  crtcrcafeD  fo  m  ar« 
mc0  ano  UoojC^pp  t^at  t^ep  palTeD  all 
t\)m  f  cloU}C0  in  p^otDcITe  $  noble  DcDe$ 
9t^at  SdaiS  Qieu  p;oueD  on  manp.isuc 
tn  efpecpaii  it  Voafi  pjoueo  on  in  tmn 
celot  Dulalte*  f o;  inail  turnepmentriS 
anDtu(le0  ano  Dem  of  armeiS/totbe 
fo;  ipf  e  ano  Det^  i;e  palTcD  all  knvgfiteg 
n  at  no  tpme  ^e  n7a0  ncucr  ouercomcn 
but  pf  tc  tb€re  bp  treafon  o;  cnt^aunte; 
mnit.^p;  ylauncelot  cncreafeo  To  mcc 
uaplouOpin  rooit^pp  ?  ^onour/solicr; 
fo^e  ^e  tie;  t^e  firft  bnpg^t  ^  t^e  frenlTUe 
boobc  mabet!?  nuntpon  of/after  ttiat 
bpnge  2Crtljur  came  from  JRome/Xb^cc 
fojequene^ueneuer^ao^pm  tngrete 
fauoutaboueailotber  bnpg^tej^/ano 
certapnip  be  loueo  tbe  quene  agapne  a; 
boue  aUdt^er  iaope0  ano  oamopfeaeiS 
ailtljeoapejafrtf  ^iie?ipfc/ano  fo?  ^cr^e 

ill 


Reduced  Facsimile  Page  from  Malory's  Morte  d'Arthur,  1529 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE  FH-TEENTM  CENTURY  (1400-1500) 

After  the  Age  of  Chaucer,  the  two  streams  of  litera- 
ture—  rehgious  and  romantic  —  are  hardly  to  be  distin- 
guished from  each  other;  and  the  influences  Decline  of 
arising  from  the  relations  between  the  two  races  literature 
have  largely  spent  their  force.  Indeed,  if  this  period 
stood  by  itself,  it  might  be  difficult  to  say  that  the  influ- 
ences of  religion  and  romance  were  very  clearly  mani- 
fested as  the  guiding  impulses  of  its  literature.  They 
are  certainly  not  so  in  any  fresh  and  vigorous  way.  Never- 
theless, no  new  influences  have  as  yet  arisen  to  take  their 
place;  and  as  a  consequence,  literature  rapidly  sinks  into 
that  state  of  exhaustion  and  decay  which  marks  the  fif- 
teenth century  as  one  of  the  most  barren  tracts  of  all  our 
literary  history.  Especially  in  the  early  part  of  the  cen- 
tury, and  more  or  less  throughout  its  whole  extent,  litera- 
ture is  chiefly  imitative  of  what  went  before ;  and  so  far 
as  any  vital  forces  are  at  work,  they  are  the  same  as  those 
which  dominated  the  Age  of  Chaucer.  In  default,  there- 
fore, of  any  new  and  original  impulses,  and  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  the  older  impulses  are  still  operative  in  weak  and 
decadent  form,  we  may  still  continue  to  speak  of  literature 
as  growing  out  oi  the  religious  and  the  romantic  sj)irit. 
Literary  revival  could  come  only  with  the  athent  of  new 
and  powerful  quickening  impulses  ;  and  toward  the  close 
of  the  century,  we  can  feel  the  coming  of  those  newer 
forces  which  are  to  exert  so  powerful  an  effect  upon  the 
literature  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

75 


je  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

During  a  large  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  imitation 
of  Chaucer  was  a  prevailing  fashion.  This  would  be  an 
Chaucer's  evidence  of  excellent  literary  taste,  if  it  were  not 
English  Foi-  for  the  fact  that  Gower  was  commonly  ranked 
with  him  and  imitated  in  only  a  less  degree. 
It  is  well  to  note,  too,  that  Chaucer  was  imitated  least 
where  he  was  most  original  and  masterful  —  that  he  was 
imitated  most  where  he  was  chiefly  mediaeval,  French,  alle- 
gorical, a  child  of  his  age.  Among  his  Enghsh  followers, 
two  call  for  special  mention.  The  first  of  these  is  Thomas 
Occleve.  His  principal  work  is  a  poem  called 
Go2ivernail  of  Princes.  It  deals  with  the  duties 
of  rulens,  and  was  dedicated  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Shakespeare's  Prince  Hal,  afterward  Henry  V.  The  best 
thing  about  the  poem  is  its  revelation  of  Occleve's  love 
and  admiration  for  his  friend  and  master,  Chaucer,  Among 
other  praises,  he  writes : 

O  maister  dere  and  fader  reverent, 

My  maister  Chaucer  !  floure  of  eloquence, 

Mirrour  of  fructuous  entendement, 

O  universal  fadir  in  science, 

Alias!  that  thou  thyne  excellent  prudence 

In  thy  bedde  mortel  myghtest  not  bequethe  ; 

What  eyled  Dethe  ?  alias,  why  wold  he  sle  thee  ? 

A  better  poet  and   much  more  voluminous  writer  was 

John    Lydgate,    "the    Monk   of    Bury."      His    Storie   of 

Thebes  is  represented  as  a  new  Canterbury  Tale 

Lydgate  .  -^ 

told  by  him  after  joining  the  pilgrims  on  their 
journey.  His  other  chief  poems  are  the  Troye  Book  and 
the  Falles  of  Pj'inces,  both  of  which  titles  sufficiently  sug- 
gest the  subjects  of  the  poems.  He  seems  to  have  been 
able  to  turn  his  hand  to  almost  any  kind  of  literary  work, 
and  produced  more  writings  than  anybody  has  yet  been 
found  willing  to  publish.  One  of  his  best  known  minor 
pieces  is  his  ballad  of  London  Lickpenny,  which  gives  vivid 
and  realistic  pictures  of  the  London  life  of  his  time. 


THE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY    (1400-1500)  yy 

The  best  Chaucerian   tradition  was  carried  on,  not  by 
EngHsh,  but  by  Scotch  poets.     Theirs  is  about  the  onl}i 
vigorous  and  inspired  poetical  work  of  the  fif-  q^^^^^   , 
teenth  century.     First  and  personally  most  inter-  scotch 

Followers 

esting  of  these  is  James  I  of  Scotland.    Captured 
at  the  age  of  eleven,  the  young  prince  spent  nineteen  years 
as  a  prisoner  in  luigland.     Poetry  became  one  of  the  diver- 
sions of  his  captivity  ;  and  he  wrote  among  other  jamesioi 
things  T/u-  King s  Quair  {'^ook).     From  the  win-  scouand 
dows  of   his  prison — possibly  Windsor  Castle  —  the  king 
sees  a  beautiful   lady  walking  in  the  garden  and  falls  in 
love  with    her.     The    poem    proceeds,    in    the    customary 
allegorical   manner,  to   tell   the  story  of   this  love.      It  is 
supposed   to  be   based    upon    the  real  experience  of   the 
prince's  love  for  Lady  Jane   Beaufort,  whom  he  married 
at  the  close  of  his  captivity  in  1424.     The  incident  of  the 
lady  in  the  garden   reminds   us  of   Emelye  seen  by  the 
prisoners  Palamon  and  Arcite,  in  Chaucer's  K)iiglifs  Tale. 
Probably  later   than   the   middle   of   the    century,   Robert 
Henryson     produced     a    number    of    excellent 
poems.      He  was  a  follower  of  Chaucer,  but  did     ^'"^^°° 
not  lack  originality.     His  Testament  of  Crcscidc  undertakes 
to  complete  Chaucer's  Troilus  and  Cfiseyde,  and  is  in  the 
old  romantic  manner.     Robync  and  Makync  has  been  called 
"  the  earliest  luiglish  pastoral."     Probably  his  most  vigor- 
ous and  interesting  work  is  \\\\\\'i,  Fables,  where  he  is  lively, 
imaginative,  and   humorous.     Not  the   least  of    his  good 
qualities  is  his  sincere  and  direct  feeling  for  nature. 

Two  other  Scotch  jjoets  carry  us  along  toward  the  end 
of  the  fifteenth  century  and  over  into  the  sixteenth  ;  but  as 
they,  too,  represent  the  Chaucerian  tradition,  it  is  perhaps 
best  to  consider  thcni  here.  The  first  of  these,  and  the 
best  poet  of  the  Scotch  group,  was  VV^illiam  Duii- 
bar.  His  poems  are  too  numerous  for  detailed 
mention,  but  a  few  may  be  cited  as  typical.      'I'lie  Thistle 


78  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

and  the  Rose  is  an  allegory  commemorating  the  marriage 
of  James  IV  of  Scotland  with  the  Princess  Margaret  of 
England.  TJie  Golden  Targe  is  another  allegory,  full  of 
picturesque  description.  The  Dance  of  the  Seven  Deadly 
Sins  is  a  grotesque  ballad,  realistic,  forcible,  and  imagina- 
tive. In  the  Lament  for  the  Makers  (Poets),  he  utters  a 
moving  complaint  on  the  death  of  the  poets,  known  and 
unknown,  from  Chaucer  to  Maister  Walter  Kennedy. 
These  poems  represent  a  body  of  work  both  forcible  and 
poetical,  ranging  from  pathos  to  satire,  from  coarse  realism 
to  pure  fancy,  from  allegorical  moralizing  to  fine  natural 
description.  The  last  Scotch  poet  to  be  mentioned  is 
Gawain  Douglas,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Angus 
"^  and  Bishop  of  Dunkeld.       Poetry  belonged  to 

his  earlier  life,  and  was  later  abandoned  for  politics.  His 
Palice  of  Honour  and  King  Hart  (Heart)  are  moral  alle- 
gories, the  latter  dealing  with  the  heart  of  man.  His  best 
work  is  in  his  translation  of  Virgil's  y^neid.  Like  the 
other  Scotch  poets,  he  has  an  eye  for  the  poetical  aspects 
of  nature. 

During  the  fifteenth  century  many  romances  were 
written,  both  in  verse  and  in  prose.  Romantic  literature 
was  thus  carried  forward,  sometimes  with  a  large  infusion  of 
the  moral  or  religious  element.  Through  the  prose  romances 
and  various  other  works  of  more  or  less  importance,  prose 
style  was  considerably  advanced  in  its  development.  The 
greatest  romance  and  the  greatest  prose  of  the  century 
,  are  to  be  found  together  in  Sir  Thomas  Malory's 
Morte  Morte  d' Arthur,  written  about  1470.     By  its  ad- 

dition of  a  moral  and  religious  tone,  it  becomes 
perhaps  the  most  typical  work  of  the  age.  As  one  of  the 
earliest  works  to  be  printed  (in  1485)  at  Caxton's  new 
press,  it  reminds  us  that  the  introduction  of  printing  is 
bringing  about  new  conditions  of  immense  importance  to 
literature.     Malory's  work  is  a  great  collection  of  Arthurian 


THE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY    (1400-1500)  79 

legends,  brought  into  a  fair  degree  of  unity  about  the 
central  conceptions  of  King  Arthur  and  the  Round  Table. 
It  may  in  a  sense  be  said  to  gather  up  into  a  single  book 
the  whole  spirit  of  mediaeval  romance.  For  IVIalory  is  not 
a  great  inventor,  but  only  a  moderately  skilful  compiler. 
He  gathers  his  materials  from  the  best  of  the  old  French 
romancers,  arranges  them  in  rather  confusing  fashion,  and 
thus  reproduces  for  us  the  long  labor  of  the  Middle  Ages 
on  the  great  subject-matter  of  Arthurian  story.  What 
Malory  had  above  all  things  was  the  power  of  lively  and 
interesting  narrative  clothed  in  vivid  style.  He  did  not 
invent  his  story,  but  he  knew  how  to  tell  it.  His  credit, 
however,  does  not  end  here.  To  have  caught  the  spirit 
of  Arthurian  legend,  to  have  seized  and  held  its  features 
of  greatest  and  most  enduring  interest,  to  have  embalmed 
forever  the  fast-fading  charm  of  the  Middle  Ages,  is  to 
have  done  much  for  modern  literature  and  for  the  modern 
world ;  and  this,  when  all  proper  deductions  have  been 
made,  Malory  may  be  justly  said  to  have  accomplished. 
It  is  to  him,  rather  than  to  his  French  or  English  predeces- 
sors, that  our  modern  poets  of  Arthurian  legend  have  gone 
for  their  inspiration  and  their  materials.  Alongside  of 
their  work,  his  still  stands  and  keeps  its  attraction.  It  is 
one  of  the  great  romances  of  literature,  a  book  that  men 
will  not  willingly  let  die. 

It  is  a  little  difficult  to  determine  the  precise  point  in 
literary  history  at  which  the  Ballads  should  be  taken  up  for 
consideration.  It  seems  probable  that  ballads 
were  made  and  sung  as  early  as  the  thirteenth  ^  *  *  s 
century,  and  that  they  continued  to  prevail  throughout  the 
Middle  English  Period.  On  the  other  hand,  many  ballads 
of  undoubtedly  mcdi:rval  origin  exist  to-day  in  a  form  of 
English  as  late  as  that  of  the  seventeenth  or  eighteenth 
century.  While  it  is  impossible  to  date  most  of  the  indi- 
vidual ballads,  and   while  they  i)robabiy  belong  to  widely 


8o  RELIGION   AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

separated  periods,  it  seems  probable  that  most  of  the  older 
and  more  genuine  ballads  were  produced  in  or  before  the 
fifteenth  century,  and  that  they  took  on  their  present  form 
at  about  that  time.  Few,  if  any,  are  in  a  language  of  earlier 
date.  It  has  even  been  asserted  with  much  plausibility 
that  the  fifteenth  century  was  the  great  time  of  ballad- 
making  in  England  and  that  many  of  the  ballads  on  older 
subjects  were  written  at  that  period.  So  far  as  the  ballads 
may  be  associated  with  fifteenth-century  literature,  they 
distinctly  help  to  raise  its  tone  and  to  better  its  average 
quality.  Many  of  them  are  finely  poetical,  and  mosT  of 
them  are  quaint  and  charming  in  effect.  The  ballads  are 
the  poetry  of  the  common  people.  Individual  authors  are 
unknown;  and  in  a  very  true  sense  the  poems  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  product  of  popular  feeling  and  imagination. 
Whoever  gave  them  their  first  form,  they  have  been  resung, 
retouched,  reshaped,  until  they  bear  the  stamp  of  the 
people  rather  than  of  any  individual  poets.  English  lit- 
erature is  comparatively  poor  in  genuine  folk-poetry ;  and 
so  far  as  the  ballads  are  really  popular,  they  are  for  that 
reason  all  the  more  precious. 

Ballad  subjects  cover  a  wide  field.  Many  of  them  are 
Character  of  either  historical  or  romantic  or  supernatural, 
the  Ballads  while  the  ballads  of  the  Scottish  border  and 
those  associated  with  Robin  Hood  form  special  groups 
of  great  interest.  Most  true  ballads  combine  narrative 
substance  with  a  lyric  form  ;  they  are  stories  to  be  sung. 
Some  are  more  purely  lyric,  and  they  shade  off  gradually 
into  the  strict  lyric  type.  The  verse  is  often  crude,  the 
tone  is  often  coarse,  but  not  seldom  they  have  a  genuine 
music  and  a  high  degree  of  poetic  beauty.  Some  of  the 
best  and  oldest  deal  with  themes  common  to  many  lands 
and  to  many  peoples.  This  is  an  evidence  of  the  wide  and 
unaccountable  diffusion  of  popular  legends  and  beliefs, 
but  not  at  all  an  evidence  of  foreign  influence  or  of  imita- 


THE   FIFTEENTH   CENTURY    (1400-15CX3)  Si 

tion.      Indeeclj   no  part  of  our  poetry    is   more   genuinely 
native  and  original  than  the  ballads.     They  smack  of  the 
soil   and    bear    the    unmistakable   mark    of   English  and 
Scottish  character.     It  is  the  life  and  thought  and  feeling 
of    the    English    peasant    that    they    reflect,    even    when 
they  are  dealing  with  the  most  romantic  themes  or  with 
hiirh-born  lords  and  ladies.     Their  very  crudeness  tells  of 
the  uncultured  sources  from  which  they  sprang ;  and  their 
poetry  is  evidence  that  the  English  nature  is   not  without 
the  artistic  instincts  which  have  made  other  races  rich  in 
popular  song.     It  is  impossible  in  brief  space  to  recount 
even  the  best  and  most  typical  of  English  ballads.     One  of 
the  most  famous  is  Chevy  Chase,  of  which  Sir  Philip   Sid- 
ney said  that  his  heart  was  stirred  by  it  more  than  with  a 
trumpet.     Perhaps  none  is  superior  in  poetic  value  to  the 
Nut-Browne  Mayde.     It  is  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  be- 
tween the  maid  and  her  lover.     In  order  to  test   her  love, 
he  pretends  that  he  has  been  outlawed,  but  she  insists  on 
following  him  into  banishment.     She  says  : 

And  though  that  I  of  auncestry 

A  baron''s  daughter  be, 
Yet  have  you  proved  howe  I  you  loved, 
A  squyer  of  lowe  degre. 

He  finally  reveals  to  her  the  truth,  and  says : 

I  wyll  you  take,  and  lady  make, 

As  shortely  as  I  can  : 
Thus  have  you  won  an  erlys  son, 

And  not  a  banyshed  man. 

Sir  Patrick  Spcns  is  a  fine  ballad,  typical  in  substance  and 
metre.  Sir  Patrick  has  been  sent  by  the  king  of  Scotland 
on  a  rash  winter  voyage  to  bring  home  "  the  king's  daugh- 
ter of  Xoroway."     On  their  return  the  ship  is  lost. 

And  lang,  lang.  may  the  maidens  sit, 

\Vi'  tlieir  j^oud  kaims  in  tlicir  hair, 
A'  waitinji  for  their  ain  dear  loves! 
I'oi  them  tliey'll  see  nu  niair 


82  RELIGION    AND    ROMANCE    (1066-1500) 

O  forty  miles  off  Aberdeen, 
'Tis  fifty  fathoms  deep, 
And  there  lies  gude  Sir  Patrick  Spens, 
Wi'  the  Scots  lords  at  his  feet. 

The  earliest  dramatic  literature  in  England  was  in  the 
form  of  Mysteries  and  Miracle  Plays.  Mysteries  were 
Mysteries  dramatic  representations  of  Bible  incidents  and 
and  Miracle  characters,  especially  of  such  as  were  in  any 
way  connected  with  the  life  or  personality  of 
Christ.  They  appear  to  have  developed  out  of  the  church 
ritual,  to  have  been  encouraged  by  the  church  as  a  means 
of  utilizing  strong  human  instincts  in  the  service  of  relig- 
ion, to  have  been  represented  at  first  by  ecclesiastics  and 
within  the  church  buildings.  Later,  they  were  acted  by 
the  trade  guilds  of  various  towns ;  and  from  this  associa- 
tion, they  were  called  Mysteries,  a  name  derived  from  the 
Old  French  mester,  a  trade.  Mysteries  occur  mostly  in 
long  series  or  cycles  of  plays,  dealing  with  successive 
steps  of  the  Bible  history.  Miracle  Plays  dealt  with  the 
lives  and  deeds  of  various  saints,  and  occur  as  separate 
plays  rather  than  in  cycles.  Mysteries  and  Miracles  are 
of  essentially  the  same  dramatic  type,  though  it  is  likely 
that  Mysteries  represent  the  earlier  stage  of  development. 
They  are  better  discriminated  from  each  other  in  French 
literature  than  in  English.  In  English  literature,  indeed, 
the  name  Miracle  is  applied  to  both  classes  of  plays,  and 
there  seems  never  to  have  been  a  clear  distinction  between 
them.  The  distinction,  however,  is  a  serviceable  one  and 
is  not  without  historical  justification.  Allowing  ourselves 
to  make  use  of  it,  we  may  say  that  English  literature  is 
comparatively  rich  in  Mysteries  and  that  it  has  few,  if  any, 
Miracles,  strictly  so-called,  that  are  written  in  the  native 
tongue. 

The  earliest  known  dramatic  work  to  be  associated  with 
English  literature  is  the  Miracle   Play  of  St.  KatJierine. 


THE   FIFTEEx\TH   CENTURY    (1400-1500)  83 

It  was  performed  early  in  the  twelfth  century  and  was 
probably  written  in  Latin,  though  possibly  in  French. 
English  Mysteries,  and  probably  Miracles  also,  Mediavai 
were  played  as  early  as  the  thirteenth  century.  Drama 
and  were  both  common  and  popular  in  the  fourteenth. 
No  extant  plays  are  older  than  the  latter  part  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  probably  most,  if  not  all,  of  them 
belong  to  the  fifteenth.  A  French  literary  historian  has 
called  the  fifteenth  century  "the  golden  age  of  the  Myste- 
ries," and  the  expression  is  probably  as  applicable  to 
English  literature  as  to  French.  It  seems  best,  therefore, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  ballads,  to  treat  at  this  point  a  form 
of  literature  which  had  been  developing  among  the  people 
throughout  the  Middle  Ages.  It  seems  worthy  of  note 
that  Mysteries  were  in  full  flower  more  than  a  hundred 
years  before  the  first  complete  Elizabethan  dramas  and 
that  they  are  a  product  of  mediaeval  life  rather  tlian  of 
the  Age  of  the  Renaissance. 

Besides  a  few  separate  plays,  there  are  in  English  four 
great  series  of  Mysteries,  known  as  the  York,  Towneley, 
Chester,  and  Coventry  cycles.  Many  other  Mystery 
cycles  formerly  existed,  such  as  those  of  Lon-  cycles 
don,  Worcester,  Beverley,  Dublin,  and  Newcastle.  The 
York  cycle  is  the  most  extensive,  and  in  many  respects 
the  most  interesting  and  typical.  It  contains  forty-eight 
plays.  The  first  is  on  the  Creation  and  the  Fall  of 
Lucifer  ;  eleven  are  based  on  the  Old  Testament ;  most 
of  the  others  have  to  do  with  the  life,  death,  and  resurrec- 
tion of  Christ;  and  the  last  deals  with  the  Judgment  Day. 
Each  play  was  presented  by  the  representatives  of  some 
particular  trade,  and  there  is  sometimes  a  na'fve  fitness  in 
the  association  of  certain  trades  with  certain  jilays.  Thus, 
for  instance,  the  .shi])wrights  had  the  lUiilding  of  the  Ark, 
the  fishers  and  mariners  had  the  play  of  Noah  and  the 
Flood,  the  bakers  had  the  Last  Sujjper,  the  butchers  had 


84  RELIGION   AND   ROMANCE   (1066-1500) 

the  Death  and  Burial  of  Christ.  The  plays  were  acted  in 
the  open  air  on  movable  platforms  which  could  be  drawn 
about  the  city  from  one  station  to  another,  as  from  the 
cathedral  to  one  of  the  city  gates.  At  these  stations  the 
crowds  were  gathered,  and  to  each  station  came  in  proper 
succession  the  various  wheeled  platforms  or  "  pageants." 
Each  play  was  thus  acted  as  many  times  as  there  were 
stations.  It  often  took  several  days  to  complete  the  act- 
ing of  a  long  cycle  where  numerous  stations  were  made 
necessary  by  the  size  of  the  crowds.  The  "  pageants " 
were  constructed  in  two  stories,  the  upper  serving  as  the 
main  stage,  and  the  lower  serving  as  a  dressing  room  or, 
on  occasion,  to  represent  hell.  The  costumes  seem  often 
to  have  been  of  a  striking  or  elaborate  character,  and 
there  is  evidence  of  much  care  in  the  selection  and  train- 
ing of  actors. 

The  Mysteries,  Hke  the  ballads,  are  essentially  a  prod- 
uct of  the  popular  imagination.  Literary  finish  and  artis- 
tic skill  they  do  not  possess,  but  they  have  what  is  better 
—  force,  vividness,  sincerity.  Drawing  their  material  from 
the  Bible,  they  nevertheless  possess  much  originality  of 
conception,  and  even  show  something  of  boldness  in  the 
introduction  of  comic  elements.  Withal,  they  are  for  the 
most  part  reverent  and  earnest  in  feeling.  Their  dramatic 
Dramatic  effect  must  have  been  powerful  upon  the  simple 
Effect  b^t  vigorous    imaginations  of   their  uncultured 

spectators.  The  famous  Passion  Play  enacted  every  ten 
years  at  Oberammergau  gives  evidence  of  the  possibilities 
that  are  latent  in  plays  of  the  Mystery  type.  The  secret 
of  their  power  is  largely  in  the  fact  that  they  have  a  high 
spiritual  theme  and  know  how  to  treat  it  in  a  thoroughly 
human  fashion.  They  reflect  in  Bible  scenes  and  heroes 
the  life  that  was  passing  under  men's  very  eyes.  That 
life  was  deeply  and  genuinely  religious,  even  though  it  was 
also  coarse,   ignorant,  and   superstitious.     The    mediaeval 


THE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY   (1400-1500)  85 

drama  is  scarcely  less  typical  than  the  mediaeval  cathe- 
dral of  an  age  of  profound  faith  and  of  strong  romantic 
sentiment. 

The  so-called  Moralities,  on  the  other  hand,  reflect  the 
mediaeval  passion  for  allegory.  Perhaps,  too,  they  grew 
out  of  the  more  intellectual   side  of  the  medi- 

Moralities 

aeval  temper.  The  characters  are  personified 
abstractions,  representing  the  various  virtues  and  vices. 
The  plays,  at  least  in  the  earlier  examples,  deal  with  the 
broad  problems  of  man's  whole  moral  nature.  Later, 
they  become  somewhat  more  limited  in  scope,  as  we  shall 
have  occasion  to  see  in  the  next  period.  A  typical  speci- 
men of  the  older  Moralities  is  Everyman,  in  which  the 
hero  represents  general  human  nature,  and  in  which  some 
of  the  characters  arc  Death,  Fellowship,  Kindred,  Gold, 
Good  Deeds,  Knowledge,  Confession,  Beauty,  Strength, 
Discretion,  Five  Wits.  When  Everyman  is  summoned  by 
Death,  all  his  other  former  friends  forsake  him,  but  Good 
Deeds  alone  is  willing  to  accompany  him  on  the  dreadful 
journey.  The  Moralities  represent  a  second  stage  of 
dramatic  development,  but  they  are  not  in  all  respects  an 
imjjrovement  upon  the  Mysteries.  Their  plots  are  in- 
vented instead  of  borrowed,  and  they  have  attained  a  freer 
form,  from  which  it  is  possible  for  later  drama  to  grow; 
but  as  dramatic  figures  their  moral  abstractions  are  far 
inferior  to  the  living  personages  of  the  Bible  story.  That 
they  were  probably  not  so  dull  and  tedious,  however,  as 
they  have  sometimes  seemed  to  modern  readers,  is  shown 
by  the  recent  effective  production  of  Evcryvian  upon  our 
contemporary  stage. 


Representation  of  a  Mystery  Play 

Sharp's  "  Coventry  Mysteries" 


ThorV/iattKiiurhl!. 


/W?     W.^^^7 


BOOK    III 
RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  {i 500-1666) 

CHAPTER    VII 

BEGINNINGS   OF   RENAISSANCE  AND    REFORMATION   IN 
ENGLAND    (1500- 15 79) 

The  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  and  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  formed  a  period  of  transition.  The  long 
period  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  rapidly  passing  away,  and 
a  new  life  was  rapidly  being  shaped  by  new  ideals  and 
new  modes  of  thought.  Literature  had  declined,  and  its 
revival  could  come  only  with  the  advent  of  a  new  quicken- 
ing impulse.  Such  impulse  had  already  appeared  and  was 
growing  more  and  more  to  the  exercise  of  its  full  power. 
It  was  of  a  twofold  nature.  On  the  one  hand  was  that 
great  intellectual  awakening  which  we  call  the 

T-»  •  1  4.U  i-u  4-u    t  1.  Renaissance 

Renaissance ;  and  on  the  other  was  that  great  and  Reforma- 
spiritual  awakening  which  we  call  the  Refor-  ^""' 
mation.  These  two  great  forces  worked  together  to 
shape  the  general  character  of  literature  for  over  a 
century  and  a  half.  'N'ever  before  or  since  has  the 
race  been  so  mightily  stirred,  and  never  elsewhere 
have  we  seen  so  great  literary  results.  What  wonder, 
when  we  consider  TIie~nature  of  the  influences  at  work. 
The  Renaissance  was  in  very  truth  a  new  intellectual 
birth.  Think  for  a  moment  of  what  it  involved  or  im- 
plied. First,  we  have  the  revival  of  classic  learning, 
revealing  to  the  modern  world  the  riches  of  ancient 
thought.     Then  came  the  introduction  of   printing,  spread- 

^1 


88        RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

ing  broadcast  both  the  old  and  the  new  in  hterature. 
Then  the  discovery  of  America,  reveaHng  to  men  an 
unknown  world.  Then  the  Copernican  system  of  as- 
tronomy, giving  them  new  heavens  as  well  as  a  new 
earth.  To  all  this  was  added  the  religious  fervor  of  the 
Reformation,  quickening  human  life  at  its  very  centre. 
Such  an  intellectual  and  moral  revolution  is  almost  be- 
yond conception  ;  and  the  race  that  would  not  respond  to 
such  influences  must  be  incapable  of  great  literary  expres- 
sion. The  English  race  did  respond,  and  in  a  way  that  has 
made  English  poetry  the  crowning  glory  of  the  world's 
intellectual  history. 

These  new  impulses,  like  the  earlier  introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity among  the  Anglo-Saxons,  were  foreign  in  their 
English  Re-  origin.  They  were  European  rather  than  Eng- 
sponse  iig]-,_     Yet  the  English   race  responded  to  them 

without  any  long  period  of  assimilation.  How  shall  we 
account  for  this,  if  it  be  true  that  a  foreign  influence  must 
first  enter  into  the  very  life-blood  of  a  people  before  it  can 
vitally  affect  their  literature  .-'  The  answer  is  not  difficult. 
The  new  influences  in  a  certain  sense  came  from  without ; 
but  they  were  merely  the  touch  on  the  spring  which  let 
loose  the  restrained  forces  of  the  English  mind,  the  sup- 
pressed rehgious  passion  of  the  English  heart.  They  were 
the  occasion  rather  than  the  adequate  cause  of  the  new 
movements.  In  other  words,  the  true  impulses  of  the  new- 
literature  were  not  the  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation 
as  independent  forces,  but  rather  the  pent-up  powers  of 
the  English  nature  which  were  now  brought  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  themselves.  The  Renaissance  and  the  Refor- 
mation did  not  create  these  powers;  they  found  them  already 
existing.  If  they  had  not  so  found  them,  the  new  in- 
fluences would  have  worked  comparatively  in  vain.  This 
is  not  mere  theory.  Historical  fact  justifies  our  view  that 
the   intellectual    and    moral    influences  that  create   great 


BEGINNINGS  IN  ENGLAND  (1500-1579)  89 

literature  were  already  straining  on  the  leash,  eager  to  be 
let  loose.  See  the  race  struggling  for  great  poetic  utter- 
ance in  Chaucer  more  than  a  hundred  years  before  — 
struggling  with  splendid  success  for  a  moment,  and  then 
sinking  back  stifled  in  that  heavy  intellectual  atmosphere. 
See  it  struggling  in  Langland  and  Wyclif  and  the  Lollards 
for  a  new  religious  life,  only  to  find  the  wings  of  its  aspi- 
ration boating  vainly  against  the  iron  bars  of  a  cage. 
When  air  and  light  and  freedom  came  to  all  western 
Europe,  the  repressed  energies  of  England  sprang  for- 
ward with  a  bound  toward  their  magnificent  task.  Not  in 
a  moment,  however,  were  the  greatest  literary  results 
achieved.  Ready  and  eager  as  England  was,  she,  like  the 
rest  of  P2urope,  needed  time  to  accommodate  herself  to  the 
new  circumstances,  time  to  try  her  strength  in  the  new 
ways,  time  to  find  herself  in  the  new  tasks.  At  first,  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  Wyatt  and  Surrey  as  expo- 
nents of  the  Renaissance,  with  Tyndale  as  exemplifying  the 
English  response  to  the  spirit  of  the  Reformation.  It  is  not 
until  the  last  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  we  come 
upon  the  great  works  which  make  the  glory  of  English 
literature. 

Mediaeval  dramatic  forms  did  not  at  once  cease  with  the 
advent  of  the  Renaissance.  Mysteries  continued  to  be 
acted  throughout  the  sixteenth  century.  The  continuation 
type,  however,  did  not  develop  further,  but  re-  of  Drama 
mained  substantially  what  it  had  been  during  the  fifteenth 
century  and  earlier.  Moralities,  on  the  other  hand,  show 
some  progress.  In  the  first  place,  they  become  more 
limited  in  the  range  of  their  subject-matter.  Earlier 
Moralities    had   dealt    with    the    full    scope    of 

,  ,  XT  1  1  •  Moralities 

man  s  moral  nature.     Now    the  tendency  is  to 
deal  with  more  particular  problems,  such  as  the  temi:)tations 
of  youth  or  the  arlvantages  of    sound   learning.       In  the 
latter  case  especially,  the  influence  of  the   Renaissance  is 


90       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

apparent.  Then,  the  Moralities  were  tending  to  become 
less  allegorical  and  more  realistic,  to  make  their  characters 
less  abstract  and  more  individual.  In  particular,  a  humor- 
ous element  creeps  in  which  is  often  taken  from  actual  life. 
A  change  of  somewhat  similar  nature  was  the  tendency 
toward  greater  concreteness.  Characters  became  more 
solid  and  vital,  incidents  had  more  interest  for  their  own 
sake  and  less  for  the  sake  of  didactic  effect.  This  again 
is  shown  chiefly  on  the  humorous  side.  The  Devil,  and 
the  Vice  especially  became  something  like  real  flesh-and- 
blood  personages.  All  this  is  in  the  direction  of  true 
drama,  though  it  is  still  a  long  way  from  the  goal. 

Yet  another  kind  of  dramatic  work  is  to  be  found  in  the 

Interludes.     The  name  designates  a  short  dramatic  piece 

to  be  acted  in  the  intervals  of  longer  entertain- 

Interludes  .  n      ,    ^ 

ments.  Ihe  type  is  not  well  denned,  and, 
indeed,  is  hardly  to  be  separated  from  other  classes. 
Many  Interludes  are  practically  Moralities.  Others  have 
a  considerable  mixture  of  classical  elements,  and  still 
others  are  brief  farces.  There  is,  perhaps,  a  gain  in  free- 
dom and  realism,  but  not  much  advance  in  other  respects. 
John  Heywood,  who  produced  several  Interludes  as  early 
as  1532,  gave  this  sort  of  play  its  most  distinct  literary 
form.  One  of  his  works  is  entitled  The  Four  P's,  a  vierry 
I  liter  hide  of  a  Palmer,  a  Pardoner,  a  Potecary,  and  a 
Pedlar.  Its  farcical  character  is  suggested  by  the  title. 
In  a  competition  as  to  which  can  tell  the  greatest  lie,  the 
prize  is  won  by  the  Palmer,  who  declares  that  he  never 
saw  a  woman  out  of  patience. 

The  farcical  Interlude  passes  on  into  the  true  Comedy. 
The  first  comedy  in  English  literature  was  acted  between 
First  English  ^534  ^^^  i54i>  and  was  written  by  Nicholas 
Comedy  Udall,  master  of  Eton  College.  It  is  called 
Ralph  Roister  Doister ;  and  the  fact  that  it  was  based  on 
a   comedy  of  Plautus    shows   it   to  be   a  product  of  the 


BEGINNINGS  IN  ENGLAND  (i 500-1 579)  91 

Renaissance  spirit.  It  is  crude  and  farcical  ;  but  tlie  in- 
cidents are  lively,  the  plot  is  fairly  well  constructed,  and 
the  characters  are  realistic.  This  play Represents  the 
farthest  reach  of_  dramatic  development  durin^^  the  first 
half  of^th^^sixteenth  century.  Before  pursuing  our  way 
further,  we  will  retrace  our  steps  to  consider  the  growth  of 
other  forms  of  literature  during  this  same  period. 

The  revival  of  classsic  learning  was  one  of  the  most 
important  features  of  the  Renaissance.  Under  its  influ- 
ence, the  English  universities  ceased  to  be  mere  schools  of 
analytics  and  dialectics,  and  became  European  centres  of 
light  and  culture.  They  now  made  the  so-called  TheHuman- 
"  humanities "  the  basis  of  liberal  education.  '®*^ 
Their  reputation  abroad  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  Erasmus 
of  Rotterdam,  perhaps  the  greatest  scholar  of  his  day,  was 
attracted  to  O.xford  by  the  opportunities  for  the  study  of 
Greek.  His  own  learning  and  enthusiasm  did  much  to 
encourage  these  studies,  and  his  influence  on  education 
and  indirectly  on  literature  serves  to  associate  him  with  the 
English  humanists.  We  are  here,  of  course,  concerned 
with  literature  rather  than  with  scholarship,  and  must 
confine  ourselves  to  such  of  the  humanists  as  illustrate  the 
influence  of  the  new  learning  on  literary  work. 

Most  conspicuous  of  these  was  Sir  Thomas  More. 
Renowned  alike  as  a  scholar,  a  lawyer,  a  statesman,  and  a 
man  of  wisdom  and  integrity,  he  was  also  a  man  sir  Thomas 
of  letters.  His  chief  work,  the  Utopia,  was  *'°f^ 
written  in  Latin,  and  has  therefore  only  an  indirect 
association  with  I^nglish  literature.  Nevertheless,  as  the 
production  of  an  English  thinker  and  as  an  illustration 
of  the  luiglish  Renaissance  spirit,  it  has  great  signifi- 
cance. It  is  an  imaginative  description  of  such  an  ideal 
commonwealth  as  only  a  liberal  humanist  could  then 
have  conceived.  It  is  the  work  of  a  |)ractical  statesman 
but  also  of  a  poetic  idealist.     It  was  not  only   a  protest 


92       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

against  existing  evils  but  a  rational  plan  for  an  improved 
social  order.  In  its  views  on  education,  it  represented 
the  new  learning  as  contrasted  with  mediaeval  scholas- 
ticism ;  in  its  advocacy  of  freedom  of  individual  religious 
belief,  it  was  in  advance  both  of  Catholic  and  Protestant 
theologians.  The  word  "Utopian"  has  since  come  to 
describe  that  which  is  fanciful  or  theoretical,  but  many 
of  More's  Utopian  ideas  are  now  in  practical  operation. 
In  his  History  of  Edzvard  V  and  RicJiard  III,  we  have 
our  first  good  historical  work,  both  in  matter  and  in 
style. 

Roger  Ascham  was  a  notable  scholar  and  at  one  time 
the  tutor  of  the  Princess  Ehzabeth,  afterward  queen. 
Roger  His  first  work  was  a  treatise  on  archery  called 

Ascham  Tox Op hH u s,  wriXXe^n  in  1545.     His  ScJwolmaster 

was  written  much  later  in  life  and  was  not  published  until 
after  his  death  in  1568.  It  sets  forth  his  decidedly 
humanistic  ideas  of  education.  Ascham  believed  in 
healthful  sport,  in  physical  culture,  in  classical  training, 
in  sympathy  between  teacher  and  pupil,  in  character  as 
the  aim  of  education. 

The  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation  were,  in  the 
main,  working  toward  the  same  great  end  of  intellectual 
The  Reform-  S-^d  Spiritual  freedom.  At  times,  however,  their 
^^^  aims    and    their    spirit    seemed   to   be    in    con- 

flict ;  and  humanists  and  reformers  often  regarded 
each  other  as  belonging  to  hostile  camps.  The 
humanists  appealed  for  the  most  part  to  the  cultured 
classes.  The  reformers  recognized  the  necessity  of  reach- 
ing the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  common  people.  This 
necessity  led  to  a  new  translation  of  the  Bible,  the  first 
since  the  days  of  Wyclif.  It  was  in  part  the  work  of 
Tyndaieand  William  Tyndale  and  in  part  the  work  of  Miles 
coverdaie  Coverdale.  Tyndale  is  generally  regarded  as 
the  finer  stylist  of  the  two ;  but  doubtless  to  both  men  the 


BEGINNINGS  IN  ENGLAND  (1500-1579)  93 

translation  owed  its  qualities  of  directness,  simplicity,  vigor, 
and  picturesqueness.  This  translation,  revised  more  than 
once  during  the  sixteenth  century,  became  the  basis  of 
the  great  "authorized  version"  of  161 1,  which  has  lasted 
down  to  our  own  day,  and  which  has  had  more  influence  on 
English  prose  style  than  any  other  single  book.  Another 
important     prose-writer     was     Hugh     Latimer, 

Latimer 

Bishop    of    Worcester,  a    zealous  reformer  and 
most  powerful  preacher.     Mis  Senuons  are  written  in  an 
English  that  is  homely,  idiomatic,  humorous,  and  at  times 
even  coarse,  but  frequently  vivid  and  impressive.     During 
the  reign  of  Edward  VI   (i  547-1 553),  was  prepared  the 
English  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  supposed  to  English 
have  been  edited    by  Thomas  Cranmer,    Arch-  Prayer  book 
bishop  of  Canterbury.     In  spite  of  some  limitations,  it  shows 
a  remarkable  combination  of  melody  and  stateliness  in  style, 
and   has  e.xerted  a  strong  and  continuous  influence   from 
that   day  to   this.     One  of  its  peculiarities    is  the  use  of 
both  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  Latin  synonyms  for  the  same 
idea,  as  in  "  acknowledge  and  confess." 

The  mediaeval  type  of  poetry  persisted  well  into  the 
sixteenth  century,  but  without  producing  any  important 
results.  We  have  already  noted  the  work  of  the  Transition 
Scotch  poets,  Dunbar  and  Douglas ;  and  to  Po^^'^y 
these  may  be  added  another  Scotchman,  Sir  David 
Lyndesay,  who  wrote  until  as  late  as  1553  and  whose 
satires  associate  him  with  the  new  reform  movement. 
Among  English  poets  the  continuation  of  the  older  poetry 
is  illustrated  by  the  names  of  Stephen  Ilawes  and  John 
Skelton.  Skelton's  work  gradually  changed,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  earliest  luiglish  jioets  to  manifest  the  influence 
u{  the  newer  ideas.  By  virtue  of  a  Morality  with  farcical 
elements,  entitled  Mu^nyfyccncc,  his  is  one  of  the  earliest 
definite  names  to  be  connected  with  the  development  of 
the  drama.      He  displays  at  times  an  interesting   lyric  gift, 


94      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

but  his  best-known  work  is  satirical.  His  bitter  and 
rather  coarse  satire  is  mostly  directed  against  the  religious 
abuses  of  the  age.  This  fact  associates  him  in  a  sense 
with  the  reformers ;  but  his  vagabond  temper  had  little  in 
common  with  their  lofty  spirit.  Through  his  undoubted 
learning,  he  is  linked  with  the  humanists.  Most  of  his 
best-known  poems  are  written  in  a  doggerel  metre,  called 
from  him  Skeltonic.  We  may  not  unfairly  regard  him  as 
a  man  of  some  genius  who  came  so  early  in  the  course  of 
a  great  movement  that  he  was  unable  to  find  his  way. 

The  first  of  the  true  Renaissance  poets  were  Sir  Thomas 
Wyatt  and  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey.  In  the 
The  New  humanists,  we  have  seen  the  Renaissance  on  the 
Poetry  gidc  of  learning.     In  Wyatt  and  Surrey,  we  see 

it  on  the  side  of  poetry.  The  influences  that  inspired  these 
men  came  chiefly  from  Italy  ;  but  they  were  both  good, 
sound  EngUsh  natures,  and  knew  how  to  give  something  of 
a  native  flavor  to  their  verse.  They  were  both  polished 
gentlemen,  men  of  culture,  and  men  of  the  world.  Most 
of  their  work  consists  of  rather  artificial  love  poetry,  written 
after  Italian  models  ;  but  some  of  their  later  poems  have 
a  more  serious  and  more  genuine  tone.  That  they  intro- 
wyatt  and  duccd  and  practised  the  sonnet  is  alone  suffi- 
suney  cicnt  to  givc  them  a  name  in  the  literature  ;  but 

Surrey  has  the  additional  credit  of  having  been  the  first  of 
English  poets  to  use  blank  verse.  Both  helped  to  give  to 
EngHsh  poetry  more  of  classical  finish  and  facility  of 
expression,  quaUties  which  were  needed  to  make  it  a  fitting 
instrument  for  the  great  poets  of  the  later  sixteenth  century. 
They  were  really  the  first  of  modern  English  lyric  poets, 
and  their  lyric  gift  was  no  mean  one.  Wyatt  was  the 
older  of  the  two,  and  probably  the  master-spirit.  His 
poetry  has  the  greater  seriousness  and  dignity,  and  he  adds 
to  his  other  abilities  that  of  the  satirist.  Surrey  is  more 
varied,  more  musical,  and  more  finished   than  his  friend 


BEGINNINGS  IN  ENGLAND  (i 500-1 579)  95 

and  master,  though  he  has  less  of  force  and  weight.  It  is 
worthy  of  note  that  his  use  of  blank  verse  is  in  translations 
from  Virgil's  yEmid.  Wyatt  and  Surrey  were  the  first  of 
the  "Courtly  Makers,"  the  noble  beginners  of  our  really 
modern  English  poetry. 

Wyatt  died  in  1542  and  Surrey  in  1547  ;  but  their  works 
were  not  printed  until  ten  years  after  the  latter  date.  They 
were  first  published  in  a  work  called  TottcPs  xotteis  Mis- 
Misccllany,  issued  in  1557.  The  book  also  con-  «iia°y 
taincd  the  work  of  various  minor  poets.  Nothing  in  it 
rises  to  the  level  of  really  great  poetry  ;  but  the  little 
volume  is  forever  famous  as  the  first  poetical  publica- 
tion of  the  greatest  period  of  our  literature  —  the  Age  of 
Klizabeth. 

The  first  twenty  years  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
continue  the  work  which  had  begun  in  the  early  part  of 
the  century.     There  is  advance  in  various  lines. 

^  .    '    Early 

but  no  literary  work  of  the  first  order.     It  will  Elizabethan 
serve  our  purpose  to  note  briefly  the  work  that 
was  accomplished  in   the  three  important  departments  of 
literature  —  poetry,  drama,  and  prose. 

The   example    of   Wyatt   and    Surrey  was  followed  by 
many    poets,    none  of   whom  calls  for  personal  mention. 
The  popularity  of  poetry  is  shown  by  the  publi-  ^^^j 
cation  of  many  collections  of  songs  and  lyrics,  Elizabethan 
some   of   which    were    issued    again  and  again. 
The  titles  are  often  quaint  and  fanciful,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices  and  the  Gorgeous  Gallery 
of  Gallant  Inventions.     There  were  also  various  transla- 
tions from  the  classics  and  from  other  modern  languages. 

Only  one  poet  of  the  period    produced    really  notable 
work    and    gave    indication  of  the  great  poetry  that  was 
soon    to  follow.     This  was    Thomas    Sackville,  Thomas 
Lord  liuckhur.st,  and  afterward   ICarl  of   Dorset.  Sacicviuo 
A  curious  and  extensive  narrative  poem,  called  The  Mirror 


96       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

for  Magistrates,  had  already  been  written  in  part  by 
various  poets  and  was  afterward  much  enlarged  by 
others.  Its  purpose  was  to  show  "  with  how  grievous 
plagues  vices  are  punished  in  Great  Princes  and  Magis- 
trates, and  how  frail  and  unstable  worldly  prosperity  is 
found,  where  fortune  seemeth  most  highly  to  favour." 
Sackville  contributed  to  this  work  an  Induction,  or  in- 
troduction, and  the  Complaint  of  the  Diikc  of  Bucking- 
ham. His  contribution  is  the  only  part  of  the  whole  that 
has  poetic  value.  In  the  Induction,  he  imagines  himself 
as  guided  by  Sorrow  to  the  realms  of  the  dead.  In  the 
Complaint,  he  meets  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  in  the 
underworld,  and  listens  to  his  lamentation  over  his  tragic 
fate.  Sackville's  work  is  somewhat  stiff  and  ^rude ;  but 
it  has  a  largeness,  a  stateliness,  a  grandeur,  a  musical 
cadence  that  give  promise  of  better  things.  It  is  a  matter 
of  regret  that  Sackville  did  not  continue  his  work  in  this 
direction  ;  but  the  attractions  of  public  life  soon  drew  him 
away  from  poetry. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  drama 
had  already  attained,  in  the  case  of  Udall's  Ralph  Roister 
Doister,  to  the  stage  of  real  comedy.  Mysteries,  Mo- 
ralities, and  Interludes  continued  to  be  acted  throughout 
the  century,  and  many  new  Moralities  and  Interludes 
were  written  ;  but,  nevertheless,  drama  continued  to  de- 
velop   along    the    new    lines.     The     influences   working 

^j  toward  the  newer  drama  were  in  part  mediaeval 

Elizabethan  and  English — influences  growing  out  of  the 
Mystery  and  the  Morality.  They  were  in  part 
also  classical,  arising  from  the  study  of  the  ancient  drama. 
Many  classical  dramas  were  translated  and  imitated,  and 
there  was  a  decided,  though  fortunately  vain,  attempt  to 
conform  the  English  drama  to  classic  models.  One  of 
the  earliest  examples  of  this  is  found  in  the  first  Eng- 
lish tragedy,  Gorboduc,  or  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  written  by 


BEGINNINGS  IN  ENGLAND  (1500-1579)  97 

Thomas  Sackvillo  in  collaboration  with  Thomas  Norton. 
It  is  modeled  after  Seneca,  and  represents  a  class  of 
English  plays  known  collectively  as  Senecan  dramas. 
The  tragedy  tells  how  Gorboduc,  king  of  Britain,  divided 
his  realm  between  his  sons,  Ferrex  and  Porre.x,  and  of 
the  terrible  consequences  that  followed.  It  is  written  in 
blank  verse,  and  was  first  acted  in  1561.  In  1566  was 
acted  for  the  first  time  the  second  English  comedy,  Ga)n- 
vier  Gurtons  Xecdlc.  This  is  a  farcical  play,  almost  purely 
native  in  tone,  reputed  to  have  been  written  by  John 
Still,  afterward  Bishop  of  Wells.  Gammer  Gurton  has 
various  amusing  experiences  in  hunting  for  her  lost  needle  ; 
she  finds  it  at  last  in  the  seat  of  her  man  Hodge's 
breeches,  which  she  had  been  mending.  The  incidents 
and  the  language  are  coarse,  and  the  characters  are  taken 
from  English  low  life.  Tragedy  and  comedy  are  thus 
seen  to  be  fairly  under  way.  Still  another  kind  of  drama 
to  be  originated  at  about  this  time  is  the  historical  or 
chronicle  play.  Most  of  the  great  Elizabethan  dramas 
belong  to  these  three  classes.  During  the  first  twenty 
years  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  therefore,  the  foundations 
of  the  later  drama  were  laid.  No  work  of  a  very  high  order 
was  accomplished  ;  but  experiments  were  made  in  all 
directions,  and  the  way  was  made  plain  for  the  great 
dramatists  of  the  next  generation. 

The  development  of  prose  went  on,  but  there  were  no 
real  masters  of  style  or  invention.     The  work  of    Roger 
Ascham    continued    into    this    period,    and    his 
Schoolmaster,  already  mentioned,  was  published  Elizabethan 
in  1570,  two  years  after  his  death.     His  is  the 
only  name  of  prominence.     The  Reformation  spirit  is  rep- 
resented by   John    Kiiox    and   by    I'\jx's    popular  Book  of 
Martyrs.     Chroniclers,  like  Holinshcd  and  Stow,  provided 
historical  material  for  the  later  dramatists.      .Stories  of  the 
early  voyagers  fired  the  imaginations  ol  high  and  low,  and 


98       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 


carried  on  the  influences  which  had  arisen  from  the  discov- 
ery of  new  lands  beyond  the  seas.  Translations  were  made 
from  foreign  languages,  both  ancient  and  modern,  and  thus 
the  new  learning  became  more  and  more  widely  spread. 
Such  translations,  moreover,  were  doing  their  full  part  to 
inspire  the  coming  poets  and  dramatists  and  to  furnish 
them  with  their  wealth  of  materials.  England  was  intellec- 
tually alive ;  and  although  no  great  works  were  being  pro- 
duced either  in  prose  or  in  verse,  we  are  now  able  to  see 
that  Enghsh  literature  was  rapidly  moving  on  toward  the 
noblest  results  which  it  has  ever  achieved.  It  was  the 
darkness  just  before  a  great  dawn. 


Tnv.  Cii.oiw.  Theater 
After  a  drawing  in  the  British  Museum 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   AGE   OF   SIIAKKSPEARE    (1579-1625) 

During  the  lifetime  of  Shakespeare,  the  English  Re- 
naissance reached  its  flood-tide.  Its  spirit  was  really 
the  creative  literary  force  of  the  age  ;  and  its  richness, 
its  vigor,  its  delight,  its  beauty,  its  enthusiasm,  sought 
and  in  large  measure  found  adequate  expression.  The 
age  was  filled  with  superabundant  life,  with  an  jnnuenceof 
ardent  desire  for  knowledge,  with  a  passion  for  Renaissance 
action  and  adventure,  with  a  boundjess  ambition  to  ac- 
complish great  things,  with  a  childlike  wonder  at  the 
marvels  of  the  world,  with  a  splendid  faith  in  man's  power 
to  conquer  the  realm  of  nature  and  the  realm  of  thought, 
with  an  intense  appreciation  of  the  charm  of  all  that  was 
beautiful  and  attractive.  The  race  had  been  born  again  ; 
it  felt  itself  young,  and  its  dominant  notes  were  those  of 
passion  and  imagination.  It  was  the  time  of  all  times  for 
•  the  poet  with  his  pictures  of  the  ideal  world  and  for  the 
dramatist  with  his  i)resentation  upon  the  mimic  stage  of 
the  moving  pageant  of  human  life.  All  this  and  more 
had  come  into  English  literature  with  the  culmination 
of  the  Renaissance. 

The  spirit  of  the  Reformation  was  for  a  time  subordi- 
nated as  a  literary  force  ;  but  it  had  by  no  means  vanished. 
If  men  had  for  a  day  almost  forgotten  spiritual  Reformation 
concerns  in  seeking  after  the  glory  of  this  world,  ^'""* 
the  deep  religious  instinct  of  the  luiglish  nature  was  still  in 
their  hearts,  and  doubtless  such  words  as  those  of  Philip 
Sidney  came  often  to  their  lips  : 

99 


lOO        RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

My  mind,  aspire  to  higher  things ; 
Grow  rich  in  that  which  never  taketh  rust. 

In  the  greatest  literature  of  the  time,  rehgion  was  pres 
ent  as  a  steadying  and  restraining  if  not  as  an  i-mpelling 
force.  In  the  period,  succeeding  this,  we  shall  see  it  rising 
to  the  full  measure  of  its  power  as  a  dominant  guiding  im- 
pulse. The  literature  of  Shakespeare's  age  was  full,  rich, 
varied,  complicated,  as  well  as  powerful.  It  is  not  easy  to 
present  even  its  essential  features  in  brief  space.  We 
shall  endeavor,  as  heretofore,  to  hold  as  closely  as  possible 
to  the  chronological  order,  while  at  the  same  time  keeping 
fairly  distinct  from  each  other  the  three  main  streams  of 
literary  development  —  prose,  poetry,  and  the  drama. 

The  reign  of  Elizabeth  continued  until  1603,  and  we 
may  conveniently  group  together  the  leading  prose-writers 
Later  Eliza-  '^^o  belong  to  the  latter  half  of  her  reign, 
bethan  Prose  pirst  in  time  of  these  is  John  Lyly,  one  of  the 
minor  dramatists  and  poets  of  the  age,  who  in  1579 
and  1580  published  the  two  parts  of  a  unique  romance 
called  Euphues.  The  first  part  was  entitled  EiiphiieSy 
Lyjy.g  the   Anatomy   of    Wit ;    and   the    second   part, 

Euphues  Eiiphues  and  his  England.  Euphues  is  a 
young  Athenian  who  visits  England  and  is  made  the 
mouthpiece  for  the  expression  of  Lyly's  views  upon  various* 
phases  of  the  life,  thought,  and  manners  of  the  day.  The 
work  displays  the  Renaissance  interest  in  education  and 
philosophy,  but  it  harmonizes  also  with  the  religious 
feeling  of  the  time  in  declaring  that  "  vain  is  all  learning 
without  the  taste  of  divine  knowledge."  It  had  a  decided 
influence  as  a  guide  to  polite  manners,  and  perhaps  a  still 
greater  influence  in  setting  the  fashion  of  an  affected  and 
elaborate  style  of  speech.  Courtiers  talked  and  authors 
wrote  in  the  high-flown  manner  which  we  still  describe  as 
"  Euphuism."  Lyly  was  concerned  more  with  expression  than 
with  thought,  but  his  work  at  least  shows  the  exceeding  care 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  loi 

that  was  being  devoted  to  the  matter  of  prose  style.  He 
misled  prose  for  a  time  in  the  direction  of  poetry,  but  his 
experiment  was,  after  all,  one  that  was  worth  making. 
His  work  is  remembered  to-day  more  for  its  historical 
influence  than  for  any  gift  of  invention  or  originality  of 
thought.  A  single  sentence  will  help  to  illustrate  his 
characteristic  balance  of  sentence,  alliteration,  and  excessive 
use  of  figures  and  parallels  : 

For  as  the  hop,  the  pole  being  never  so  high,  groweth  to  the  end,  or 
as  the  dry  beech  kindled  at  the  root  never  leaveth  until  it  come  to  the 
top :  or  as  one  drop  of  poison  disperseth  itself  into  every  vein,  so  affec- 
tion having  caught  hold  of  my  heart,  and  the  sparkles  of  love  kindled 
my  liver,  will  suddenly,  though  secretly,  flame  up  into  my  head,  and 
spread  itself  into  every  sinew. 

In  the  ca.se  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  it  is  the  man  that  we 
honor  and  admire  more  than  anything  or  all  that  he  has 
written.  There  is  a  magic  charm  about  his  name  which 
appeals  powerfully  to  the  imagination.  High  sirPhiiip 
birth,  lofty  character,  knightly  honor,  chivalrous  Sidney 
loyalty,  romantic  spirit,  faithful  friendship,  disappointed 
love,  classic  learning,  religious  zeal,  faultless  courage,  early 
death  —  all  unite  to  create  a  personality  that  embodies  for 
us  all  that  was  greatest  and  best  in  a  great  age.  Beside 
this  his  literary  achievement  grows  dim.  Yet  it  was 
by  no  means  insignificant.  We  shall  have  occasion 
later  to  consider  his  poetry.  In  prose  his  notable  works 
arc  two.  First  is  a  pastoral  romance,  entitled  Arcadia. 
Somewhat  lengthy,  tedious,  and  affected  in  stylo  it  is ; 
and  yet  it  has  much  of  the  charm  that  fascinates  us 
in  the  man.  This  charm  is  half  poetical,  and,  indeed, 
some  of  .Sidney's  characteristic  verse  appears  here  and 
there  throughout  the  Arcadia.  Ills  Defense  of  Poesy  is 
much  better  written,  and  has  the  distinction  of  being  our 
first  impcjrtant  work  in  the  field  of  literary  criticism.  Its 
critical  theories  are,  in  the  main,  sound,  though  he  defended 


I02        RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

the  classical  unities  in  drama  and  held  that  verse  was  not 
an  essential  feature  of  poetry.  The  concluding  sentence 
of  the  Defense  will  give  an  idea  of  his  manner  : 

But  if — fie  of  such  a  but!  —  you  be  born  so  near  the  dull-making 
cataract  of  Nilus,  that  you  cannot  hear  the  planet-like  music  of  poetry; 
if  you  have  so  earth-creeping  a  mind  that  it  cannot  lift  itself  up  to  look 
to  the  sky  of  poetry,  or  rather,  by  a  certain  rustical  disdain,  will  become 
such  a  mome  as  to  be  a  Momus  of  poetry;  then,  though  I  will  not  wish 
you  the  ass's  ears  of  Midas,  nor  to  be  driven  by  a  poet's  verses,  as 
Bubonax  was,  to  hang  himself;  nor  to  be  rimed  to  death,  as  is  said  to 
be  done  in  Ireland ;  yet  thus  much  curse  I  must  send  you  in  the  behalf 
of  all  poets  :  —  that  while  you  live  you  live  in  love,  and  never  get  favor 
for  lacking  skill  of  a  sonnet ;  and  when  you  die,  your  memory  die  from 
the  earth  for  want  of  an  epitaph. 

The  theological  literature  of  the  time  is  nowhere  better 
represented  than  in  the  writings  of  Richard  Hooker.  His 
Richard  great  work  is  The  Laivs  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity. 

Hooker  This  is  not  an  especially  favorable  subject  for 

literature ;  but  Hooker  succeeded  in  producing  a  work 
which  not  only  remains  valuable  for  the  theologian  but 
also  calls  for  the  recognition  of  the  literary  historian.  It 
is  one  of  the  landmarks  in  the  development  of  English 
prose.  The  style  is  dignified,  stately,  restrained,  and  not 
seldom  really  musical.  In  spite  of  its  heaviness,  its  long 
periodic  sentences,  and  its  Latinized  character,  it  is  also 
reasonably  clear  and  forcible.  A  brief,  familiar  passage 
may  be  profitably  compared  with  the  quotations  from  Lyly 
and  Sidney : 

Of  law,  there  can  be  no  less  acknowledged  than  that  her  seat  is  the 
bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the  world.  All  things  in 
heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage ;  the  very  least  as  feeling  her  care, 
and  the  greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her  power.  Both  angels  and 
men,  and  creatures  of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in  different 
sort  and  manner,  yet  all  with  uniform  consent,  admiring  her  as  the 
mother  of  their  peace  and  joy. 

Hooker's  style  is  probably  the  best  model  that  his  im- 
mediate time  affords ;  but  contemporary  writers  show  his 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  103 

influence  much  less  than  that  of  Lyly  and  Sidney.  This 
is  not  altogether  unfortunate ;  for  English  prose  was  to  be 
used  for  many  and  varied  purposes,  and  it  was  well  that 
it  should  make  its  experiments  in  different  directions. 
While  the  three  names  already  mentioned  will  suffice  to 
represent  the  prose  movement,  we  should  not  fail  to  ob- 
serve that  a  great  mass  of  prose  was  written  on  a  great 
variety  of  subjects.  There  were  Euphuists,  con-  Minor  Prose 
cerned  chiefly  with  formal  excellence ;  there  were  writings 
theological  writers.  Catholic,  Anglican,  and  Puritan  ;  there 
were  literary  critics,  representing  widely  divergent  theories; 
there  were  writers  of  travels  and  voyages,  dealing  some- 
times with  their  own  experiences ;  there  were  historians, 
treating  of  events  English  and  foreign,  ancient  and  mod- 
ern ;  there  were  pamphleteers,  discussing  religion,  politics, 
and  other  matters ;  there  were  romances,  realistic  tales, 
personal  reminiscences,  sketches  of  life  and  manners,  ser- 
mons, and  translations.  All  this  does  not  exhaust  the 
field ;  for  there  was  intense  ferment  and  activity,  though 
little  of  literary  art.  Sometimes  a  writer  belonged  to  sev- 
eral of  these  classes,  and  might  be  poet  and  dramatist  as 
well.  The  age  was  striving,  aspiring,  experimenting ;  but 
on  the  side  of  prose,  it  can  not  be  said  to  have  found  its 
way  to  great  literary  achievement. 

The  first  great  English  poet  after  Chaucer  —  ranking 
with  Chaucer  among  the  few  greatest  poets  of  English 
literature  —  was  Edmund  Spenser.  In  him,  be-  „  .... 
yond  all  question,  Elizabethan  poetry  h;ul  "found 
its  way."  The  facts  of  his  life  that  immediately  concern 
us  in  the  consideration  of  his  poetry  may  be  briefly  stated. 
Like  Chaucer,  he  was  born  in  London  ;  and  it  seems  prob- 
able that  he  received  there  his  early  education,  at  the 
Merchant  Taylors'  School.  We  know  that  lie  was  a 
member  of  I'embroke  Hall  at  Cambridge  and  that  he 
received   bolli   his  degrees   in   :irts   from   that    University. 


I04     RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

A  sojourn  in  the  North  of  England,  following  his  depar 
ture  from  the  University,  is  associated  with  a  disappoint- 
ment in  love  for  a  young  lady  whom  he  poetically  names 
Rosalind.  On  his  return  to  London,  he  enjoyed  the  pat- 
ronage of  that  powerful  favorite  of  the  queen.  Lord 
Leicester,  and  became  a  member  of  the  brilliant  circle 
in  which  Sir  Philip  Sidney  was  the  central  figure.  About 
1580  he  was  appointed  secretary  to  Lord  Grey  of  Wilton, 
Deputy  of  Ireland,  and  passed  most  of  the  remainder  of 
his  life  in  that  country.  There  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  be- 
came his  friend  and  patron.  Spenser  married  at  the  age 
of  forty-two.  In  1598  his  home  was  burned  by  the  Irish 
rebels,  and  he  fled  with  his  family  to  England.  He  died 
in  London  during  the  following  year,  and  was  buried  be- 
side Chaucer  in  the  Poets'  Corner  of  Westminster  Abbey. 
The  inscription  on  his  monument  declares  that  he  was 
"the  prince  of  poets  in  his  tyme  "  ;  and  the  judgment  of 
posterity  has  not  reversed  the  record.  Perhaps  the  most 
interesting  and  important  feature  of  his  life,  apart  from 
his  poetic  work,  is  to  be  found  in  his  association  with  some 
of  the  most  noble  and  brilliant  men  of  his  generation  and 
in  his  participation  with  them  in  the  eager  and  strenuous 
life  of  the  age. 

Spenser  was  the  first  great  Elizabethan  poet.  In  him 
the  purely  poetical  influences  of  the  Renaissance  cillmi- 
spenserin  nate,  and  from  him  flow  streams  of  poetic  in- 
MsAge  fluence  that  have  helped  to   make  fruitful  the 

literature  of  three  centuries.  He  embodied  the  romantic 
spirit  of  his  age ;  but  he  embodied  its  moral  spirit  as  well. 
He  gives  us  the  last  great  picture  of  chivalry ;  he  reflects 
what  was  loftiest  and  most  brilliant  in  his  own  passing 
age;  he  expresses  all  the  purity  and  elevation  of  the 
Reformation  temper  without  its  harshness.  His  influence 
is  thoroughly  poetic  and  artistic.  To  call  him  the  "  poets' 
poet"  is  to  imply  that  he  is  best  appreciated  and  most 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  105 

highly  esteemed  by  those  who  themselves  have  most  of 
the  poetical  nature  ;  and  surely  of  no  English  poet  can 
this  be  more  truly  said.  Of  all  the  men  of  his  time,  he 
belongs  most  exclusively  to  poetry,  and  has  little  impor- 
tance aside  from  that.  Judged  purely  as  a  poet,  without 
regard  to  any  other  qualities  or  characteristics,  he  is  prob- 
ably unsurpassed  in  English  literature. 

Spenser,  wc  have  implied,  is  above  all  other  things  a 
poetic  artist.  As  such,  he  is  richly  endowed  with  the  poet's 
supreme  gift,  a  wonderful  love  for  the  beautiful.  To  this 
he  adds  the  power  of  giving  a  living  embodiment  to  his 
poetic  conceptions.  Everything  he  touches,  even  spenser's 
the  dryest  ethical  truth,  seems  to  change  into  Genius 
beauty  as  if  by  magic.  His  work  reveals  him  as  eminently 
a  poet  of  the  ideal  rather  than  of  the  real.  He  moves  in 
an  ideal  world.  He  is  "of  imagination  all  compact."  For 
him  the  jiractical  world  of  men  and  things  seems  to  sink 
out  of  sight.  He  deals  in  his  poetry  with  the  real  men  and 
women  of  his  time;  but  even  these,  in  his  world  of  dreams, 
seem  to  lose  their  reality  and  to  become  shadows  like  the 
rest.  This  is  not  to  imply  that  the  characters  of  his  poetry 
are  mere  lay  figures  or  dry  abstractions.  Such  an  impli- 
cation would  be  very  far  from  the  truth.  The  world  of  his 
poetry  is  an  ideal  world  ;  but  it  is  not,  therefore,  a  "  world 
not  "realized."  Spenser  has  a  magic  power  to  make  his 
dream  creations  almost  as  distinct  as  reality.  His  person- 
ages live  with  a  life  of  their  own  and  impress  themselves 
upon  the  imagination.  Nevertheless,  they  are  not  real  in 
the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term  ;  they  are  the  unsubstantial 
though  vividly  beautiful  creatures  of  a  most  illusive  vision. 
Spenser  is  a  lover  of  nature  ;  but  nature,  too,  is  made  sub- 
ject to  his  idealizing  process.  He  does  not  portray  her,  as 
docs  Chaucer,  frankly  and  directly  ;  his  dream  landscapes 
have  no  earthly  existence.  In  fact,  he  is  interested  in  ideas 
and  images  rather  than  in  nature  or  in  men.     His  work, 


106     RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

therefore,  displays  very  little  dramatic  power  in  the  creation 
of  lifelike  men  and  women  —  the  power  which  Chaucer  pos- 
sessed in  such  an  eminent  degree.  "  Chaucer,"  it  has  been 
said,  "painted  persons,  Spenser  qualities."  Yet  he  is  ob- 
jective in  his  pictures,  and  can  portray  scenes  and  figures 
that  live  in  the  imagination  entirely  distinct  from  the  per- 
sonality of  the  poet  himself.  It  is  as  though  he  had  the 
power  to  transport  us  also  into  his  ideal  realm  and  make 
us  move  as  shadows  in  a  world  of  shadows.  Spenser  is 
a  great  epic  poet.  Through  his  wonderful  powers  of  nar- 
ration and  description,  he  is  able  to  attract,  to  charm,  to 
fascinate.  He  has  also  a  fine  lyric  gift.  There  are  few,  if 
any,  sweeter  singers  in  the  literature.  He  has  intensity, 
variety,  fluency,  music,  fervor,  high  poetical  power.  His 
poetry  of  nature  is  largely  tentative.  We  find  it  now  some- 
what conventional  and  artificial.  His  real  home  is  not 
amid  the  scenery  of  the  actual  world  but  amid  the  ideal 
scenes  of  his  marvelous  fancy.  His  style  is  unique.  It 
is  intentionally  archaic,  and  does  not  quite  represent  the 
English  either  of  his  own  or  of  any  other  time.  In  the 
mastery  of  verse  he  is  unsurpassed.  No  sweeter  music 
than  his  was  ever  drawn  from  English  speech.  His  power 
as  a  metrist  is  admirably  displayed  in  his  pure  lyrics  and 
in  the  so-called  Spenserian  stanza.  The  latter  is  one  of  the 
most  perfect  instruments  of  poetic  expression  ever  devised. 
It  is  a  stanza  of  nine  lines,  eight  iambic  pentameters  and  a 
final  iambic  hexameter,  with  rhyme  order  ababbcbcc. 
It  is  the  stanza  used  in  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene,  and  will 
be  illustrated  in  our  discussion  of  that  poem.  Spenser's 
achievement  in  varying  its  music  and  in  linking  its  varied 
sweetness  through  one  of  the  longest  poems  in  the  lan- 
guage is  little  short  of  marvelous.  In  fine,  if  there  are  any 
words  which  sum  up  the  effect  of  Spenser's  poetry,  they 
are  these  two  —  picture  and  music. 

Spenser's  first  important  work  was  the   Shepherd'' s  Cal- 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  107 

endar,  published  in  1579,  just  after  his  return  from  the 
North  of  England  and  just  before  his  departure  for  Ireland. 
It  consists  of  a  series  of  artificial  pastorals,  spensefs 
dealing  with  the  months  of  the  year.  Some-  Minor  Poems 
what  imitative  in  style  and  thought,  it  is  a  beautiful  poem 
but  not  a  great  masterpiece.  It  gave,  however,  decided 
evidence  of  poetic  genius,  and  served  to  establish  his  repu- 
tation. A  volume  entitled  Coviplaints  contained  poems 
on  such  subjects  as  the  Ruins  of  Tinie,  Tears  of  tlie  Muses, 
I  'irg-iFs  GtMt,  Mother  Hiibbarifs  Tale,  Ruins  of  Rome,  Mui- 
potmos,  and  three  Visions.  A  pastoral  poem  entitled  Coli)i 
Clout's  Conic  Home  Again  celebrated  his  visit  to  London 
in  1 59 1.  In  this  same  year  were  published  AstropJiel,  a 
pastoral  elegy  on  the  death  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney ;  the 
Amoretti,  a  series  of  beautiful  love  sonnets  ;  and  EpitJiala- 
viion,  his  own  wedding-hymn.  The  latter  has  a  high  and 
pure  note  of  personal  passion ;  and  as  poetry,  it  is  incom- 
parable in  its  kind,  except  with  his  own  ProtJialamion, 
published  in  the  following  year  in  honor  of  the  double 
marriage  of  Lady  Elizabeth  and  Lady  Katherine  Somerset, 
daughters  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester.  Delightful  as  poetry 
and  typical  of  Spenser's  character  and  genius  are  his  Four 
Hymns — to  Love,  to  Beauty,  to  Heavenly  Love,  and  to 
Heavenly  Beauty.  These,  together  with  the  last  books  of 
his  Faerie  Queene,  bring  his  poetical  work  to  a  close  in  i  596, 
three  years  before  his  death. 

It  has  been  said  that  "  the  Calendar  and  the  Sonnets,  the 
Epithalamiuvi  and  the  Hynnns,  are  but  the  chapels  and 
chantries  of  the  cathedral  of  the  Faerie  Queene."  '  This 
beautifully  expresses  the  idea  that  the  Faene  Queene  is  the 
greatest  and  most  typical  product  of  Spenser's  The  Faerie 
genius,  the  work  in  whicli  are  summed  u])  and  Q"eene 
gathered  together  all  the  qualities  and  characteristics  of 
his  poetry.      If  we  confine  our  thought  to  ])urely  poetical 

*  Saint»bury'»  Short  Iliitory  0/  Engliih  Literature,  p.  268. 


I08     RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

merits,  it  would  be  difficult  to  name  a  greater  single  poem 
in  the  English  language.  In  its  own  class,  as  an  allegory,  it 
is  undoubtedly  supreme.  Its  allegorical  significance  is  two- 
fold —  ethical  and  historical.  On  the  ethical  side,  we  see 
in  its  characters  representatives  of  the  moral  virtues  and  of 
the  vices  that  oppose  them  ;  on  the  historical  side,  these 
same  characters  become  representative  of  the  actual  men 
and  women  of  Spenser's  time. 

The  plan  of  the  work  was  an  immense  and  an  elaborate 
one.     There  were  to  be  twenty-four  books  —  twelve  devoted 

to  the  twelve  private  virtues  and  twelve  devoted 
Its  Plan  ^ 

to  the  twelve  public  virtues.  Each  virtue  was  to 
be  represented  by  a  knight  called  upon  to  oppose  himself  to 
certain  evils.  These  knights  were  to  accomplish  their  several 
adventures,  and  be  finally  successful  through  the  help  of 
Prince  Arthur,  with  whose  marriage  to  Gloriana,  the  Faerie 
Queene,  the  poem  was  to  culminate.  Only  six  books,  about 
one-fourth  of  this  vast  scheme,  were  actually  completed. 
Each  book  is  practically  a  separate  poem.  As  it  stands,  then, 
the  Faerie  Queene  consists  of  six  complete  books  and  the 
fragment  of  a  seventh.  The  first  book  deals  with  the 
Legend  of  the  Red  Cross  Knight,  or  of  Holiness ;  the  sec- 
ond, with  the  Legend  of  Sir  Guyon,  or  of  Temperance  ; 
the  third,  with  the  Legend  of  Britomartis,  or  of  Chastity  ; 
the  fourth,  with  the  Legend  of  Cambel  and  Triamond,  or 
of  Friendship ;  the  fifth,  with  the  Legend  of  Artegall, 
or  of  Justice ;  the  sixth,  with  the  Legend  of  Sir  Calidore, 
or  of  Courtesie.  The  fragment,  consisting  of  two  cantos 
and  two  stanzas,  deals  with  the  subject  of  Mutability, 
and  was  probably  intended  as  part  of  a  book  on  Constancy. 
Each  of  the  complete  books  consists  of  twelve  cantos, 
composed  in  Spenserian  stanzas.  In  addition  to  the  virtues 
represented  by  the  several  knights,  Prince  Arthur  repre- 
sents the  comprehensive  virtue  of  Magnanimity. 

The  poem,  even  in  its  uncompleted  condition,  is  one  of 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  109 

the  longest  in  the  language.  The  interest  of  it  is  threefold. 
It  is,  first,  a  great  moral  allegory,  setting  up  lofty  ideals  of 
virtue.    It  is,  secondly,  a  great  historical  allegory, 

r,        ■  .  •       "  •  1  1      1         'ts  Interest 

retiectmo:  as  m  a  magic  mirror  the  men  ana  the 
life  of  the  age.  Queen  Elizabeth  is  there,  in  the  person  of 
Gloriana,  or  Glory,  the  Faerie  Queene  ;  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  is  there,  in  the  person  of  the  false  Duessa,  who  rep- 
resents also  the  Catholic  Church  ;  Lord  Leicester  is  there, 
in  the  person  of  Prince  Arthur  ;  there,  also,  in  various 
characters,  are  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Lord  Grey  of  Wilton, 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  many  others.  Great  movements 
of  the  time  are  also  represented  —  the  political  conflict 
with  Spain,  the  religious  conflict  with  Rome,  the  struggle 
of  PZngland  for  self-mastery  and  for  independence  of 
foreign  domination.  History  is  not  obtruded  upon  us  as 
we  follow  the  adventures  of  knights  and  ladies ;  but  the 
reader  familiar  with  historical  persons  and  events  will  find 
himself  reminded  of  them  on  many  a  page.  The 
third  interest  of  the  work  is  that  of  a  great  master- 
piece of  poetic  art,  unrolling  before  us  a  splendid  pano- 
rama of  imaginative  pictures  to  the  music  of  rhythmic 
speech. 

The  poem  is  typical  of  Spenser  in  its  largeness  and 
freedom,  in  its  ideality  and  beauty,  in  its  pictorial  and 
musical  power,  in  its  ethical  and  religious  character. 
His  various  excellencies  are  displayed  with  more  or  less 
of  fulness  in  his  minor  poems;  but  wc  have  the  complete 
and  adequate  revelation  of  his  genius  only  in  the  luieric 
Quecnc.  In  earlier  poems  of  the  age,  the  spirit  its  Typical 
of  the  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation  is  re-  character 
fleeted  only  in  a  fragmentary  and  inadequate  way.  Hut 
the  great  intellectual  and  moral  ferment  is  going  on,  and 
at  length  wc  come  to  Spenser  —  "sage  and  serious  Spen- 
ser"—  in  whom  the  most  exquisite  gift  of  pure  poetry  is 
united  with  a  moral  clevati(jn  as  severe  as  it  is  beautiful 


no       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

There  could  hardly  be  any  poem  more  finely  typical  than 
the  Faerie  Qtieene  of  the  blended  might  of  the  two  great 
literary  forces  of  the  age.  One  may  dip  almost  at  random 
into  the  great  poem  and  find  fit  evidence  of  Spenser's  gen- 
ius. The  following  brief  passage  will  illustrate  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Spenserian  stanza  and  its  musical  capabilities, 
the  poetic  quality  of  Spenser's  conceptions,  and  the  spir- 
itual elevation  of  his  sentiments.  It  is  from  the  first  book, 
and  the  Red  Cross  Knight  has  just  been  led  by  the  sage 
Contemplation  "  to  the  highest  mount  "  : 

From  thence,  far  off  he  unto  him  did  shew 
A  litle  path,  that  was  both  steepe  and  long, 
Which  to  a  goodly  citie  led  his  vew  ; 
Whose  wals  and  towres  were  builded  high  and  strong 
Of  perle  and  precious  stone,  that  earthly  tong 
Cannot  describe,  nor  wit  of  man  can  tell ; 
Too  high  a  ditty  for  my  simple  song : 
The  Citie  of  the  Great  King  hight  ^  it  well. 
Wherein  eternall  peace  and  happinesse  doth  dwell. 

As  he  thereon  stood  gazing,  he  might  see 
The  blessed  angels  to  and  fro  descend 
From  highest  heaven  in  gladsome  companee, 
And  with  great  joy  into  that  citie  wend, 
As  commonly  as  frend  does  with  his  frend. 
Whereat  he  wondred  much,  and  gan  enquere, 
What  stately  building  durst  so  high  extend 
Her  lofty  towres  unto  the  starry  sphere. 
And  what  unknowen  nation  there  empeopled  were. 

"  Faire  knight,"  quoth  he,  "  Hierusalem  that  is, 
The  New  Hierusalem,  that  God  has  built 
For  those  to  dwell  in,  that  are  chosen  his, 
His  chosen  people  purg'd  from  sinfull  guilt 
With  pretious  blood,  which  cruelly  was  spilt 
On  cursed  tree,  of  that  unspotted  Lam, 
That  for  the  sinnes  of  al  the  world  was  kilt : 
Now  are  they  saints  all  in  that  citie  sam,^ 
More  dear  unto  their  God  than  younglings  to  their  dam." 

1  Was  called.  2  Together. 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  in 

''Till  now,"  said  then  the  knight.  "  I  weened  well, 
That  great  Cleopolis  ^  where  I  have  beene, 
In  which  that  fairest  Faerie  Qiicene  doth  dwell, 
The  fairest  citie  was,  that  might  he  seene  ; 
And  that  bright  towre  all  built  of  christall  clene, 
Panthea."  seemd  the  brightest  thing  that  was : 
But  now  by  proofe  all  otherwise  I  weene; 
For  this  great  citie  that  does  far  surpas. 
And  this  bright  angels  towre  quite  dims  that  towre  of  glas." 

If  we  dwell  upon  Spenser  as  the  representative  poet  of 
his  time,  it  is  because  of  his  supreme  excellence  rather 
than  because  there  is  any  dearth  of  genuine  p^gtrycon- 
poets  and  poetry.  Indeed,  there  is  a  decided  temporary 
embarrassment  of  riches ;  and  it  is  not  possible  "^"^  ^p'°'" 
to  do  more  than  hint  at  the  varied,  abundant,  and  exquisite 
poetic  work  of  this  remarkable  generation. 

Outside  of  the  drama  and  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene,  the 
best   and    most   characteristic    work    of    the    age   was   in 
lyric  poetry.     Its  chief  theme  was  love  —  human 
love,  full  of  the  Renaissance  delight  in  life  and  ^^tic  Poetry 
beauty — divine    love,    inspired    by   the    religious    fervor 
of  the  Reformation.      Spenser  himself  stands  first  in  this 
field,  and  next  to  him   is   probably  Sir  Philip  Sidney.     In 
the  relations  of    actual  life,  Spenser  was  but  one  of  the 
satellites  of  his    noble    and    distinguished  friend ;  but    in 
poetry,  he  is  the  central  sun,  and  even  Sidney  is  but  one 
of  his  humble  followers.     Nevertheless,  Sidney 
is  a  lyric  poet  of  excellent  quality.      If  he  docs    '  °*^ 
not  capture  the  "  fine  careless  rapture  "  of  some  of   the 
best  Elizabethan  songs,  he  is  capable  of  a  rich  and  full 
lyric  music;  and  in  his  .sonnets,  he  yields  the  palm  only  to 
Shakespeare    and    possibly  Spenser.      His  A  strophe  I  attd 
Stella  is  a  cycle  of  sonnets,  apparently  reflecting  his  un- 
rewarded, if  not  unrequited,  love  for  the  beautiful  I'cnelope 

'  Londun.  '  A  tower  in  Londun. 


112      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

Devereux.  To  these,  the  personal  passion,  the  tone  of 
pathos,  the  lofty  poetic  imagination,  the  high  moral  serious- 
ness of  a  large  nature,  give  a  charm  hardly  to  be  matched 
Probably  the  best  purely  lyric  work  of  the  age  is  to  be 
found  scattered  through  the  various  song-books 
and  through  the  works  of  the  great  Elizabethan 
dramatists.  These  lyrics  were  really  written  to  be  sung  to 
music,  and  they  have  an  ease  and  a  sweetness  of  melody 
that  give  them  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art.  Some 
poets,  like  Thomas  Campion,  are  known  for  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  such  songs ;  some  keep  their  fame  with  posterity 
chiefly  by  virtue  of  a  single  success,  as  in  the  case  of  Sir 
Edward  Dyer's  "My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is";  still 
others  are  entirely  unknown,  and  we  have  only  their  inimi- 
table work  in  evidence  of  the  wide  diffusion  of  the  lyric 
gift  during  the  last  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  Among 
the  writers  of  dramatic  songs,  Shakespeare  stands  first,  as 
he  does  in  most  other  respects  ;  but  he  is  followed  at  not 
too  great  a  distance  by  Lyly,  Peele,  Greene,  Lodge,  Mar- 
lowe, and  other  dramatic  writers.  Sonnet  writing  was  one 
of    the  favorite  poetic  occupations  of  the  age, 

Sonnet  Cycles         ,         ,     ,  •  ,  r 

and  whole  series  or  cycles  of  sonnets  were 
produced  by  many  poets.  We  have  already  mentioned 
Spenser's  Amoretti  and  Sidney's  Astt'ophel  and  Stella. 
The  most  notable  example  of  all  is  to  be  found  in 
Shakespeare's  Sonnets.  Samuel  Daniel's  Delia  and 
Michael  Drayton's  Idea  may  serve  as  still  further  illus- 
trations. 

Daniel  and  Drayton  remind  us  of  the  popularity  of  still 
another  kind  of  poetry  —  the  historical  or  patriotic.  We 
Historical  have  obscrvcd  the  historical  interest  in  Spenser's 
Poetry  Faerie  Queene ;    and,  indeed,  nothing   is    more 

striking  in  the  age  than  the  enthusiasm  —  partly  patriotic, 
partly  religious,  and  partly  personal  —  for  England  and 
England's  queen.     The  growing  number  of  historical  or 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  113 

chronicle  plays  in  the  field  of  drama  illustrates  this  same 
interest  on  another   side.      The  first  purely  patriotic  poem 
of  note  is- William  Warner's  Albioiis  Englaitd. 
The  historical  type  of  poetry,  however,  is  best 
represented  by  Daniel  and  Drayton.     Daniel's  chief   his- 
torical poems  are  the  Coviplaint  of  Rosamond 

,.     .  ,  .  ,      r  Daniel 

and    the    Civil    Wars   of  \  ork   and  Lancaster. 

Among  other  things,    Drayton   wrote  the  Barons'    Wars, 

Ent^/and's  Heroical  Epistles,  the  famous  Ballad 

^  ^  Drayton 

0/  Aginconrt,  and  somewhat  later,  the  Polj'- 
olbion,  a  huge  work  of  nearly  100,000  lines,  describing 
the  "  tracts,  mountains,  forests,  and  other  parts  of  this 
renowned  isle  of  Britain,  with  intermixture  of  the  most 
remarkable  stories,  antiquities,  wonders,  pleasures,  and 
commodities  of  the  same,  digested  into  a  poem."  One 
may  well  think  that  all  this  needed  considerable  digestion. 
Drayton  fitly  calls  it  a  "  strange  herculean  task."  In  fact, 
these  historical  poems  —  though  interesting  as  evidences 
of  patriotic  spirit  —  are  unfortunate  in  their  subject-matter. 
Spenser  was  much  better  advised  by  his  finer  poetic  instinct. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  characteristic  of  the  historical  poets 
and  of  their  age  that  they  were  able  to  write  passably  good 
poetry  even  on  the  most  unjjromising  themes.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  philosophical  and  satirical  poetry  which 
developed  somewhat  later. 

Practically  contemporary  with   Spenser  were  the  early 
dramatists  whose  work  prepared  the  way  for  the  supreme 
dramatic  art  of  Shakespeare.     Most,  if  not  all,  of  The  univer 
them  were  university  men,  and  they  were  called  "^v^its 
as  a  groujj  the  "  University  Wits."     The  first  of  these  is 
John    Lvly,  the  author  of   Euphucs.      lie  wrote 
much  in  pro.se,  but  his  work  is  anything  but  pro- 
saic.    Indeed,  it  may  rather  be  characterized  as  classical, 
fanciful,  witty,  courtly,  romantic,  interspersed  with  charm- 
ing   lyrics.      There   is    little    real   dramatic    |)owcr.      His 


114      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

Endymion  is  an  allegorical  compliment  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
Thomas   Kvd  is  best  known  as  the  author  of 
a  blood-and-thunder  drama  called  the  Spanish 
Tragedy.     Thomas  Nash  wrote  with  Marlowe  a  play  called 
Dido  and  a  prose  comedy,  Will  Summer's  Testa- 
ment.    Thomas  Lodge  wrote  Mariiis  and  Sylla 
and  did  other  dramatic  work,  but  is  better  known  as  a 
charming    prose-writer,    romancer,    and     lyrist. 
Lodge  With  George  Peele,  we  come  to  work  of  much 

better  dramatic  and  poetic  quality.  His  best  play,  David 
and  Betksabe,  is  written  in  blank  verse  of  much 
grace  and  sweetness,  and  is  a  decidedly  interest- 
ing drama.  Robert  Greene  is  inferior  to  Peele  as  a  poet ; 
but,  at  least  in  his  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay, 
he  shows  considerable  skill  in  the  creation  of 
natural  character. 

The  last   and   greatest   of   the   "University   Wits"    is 
Christopher  Marlowe.     Born  in  the  same  year  with  Shake- 
speare (1564),  he  began  his  literary  career  at 
Marlowe        twenty-three   years    of    age,    and    was    dead    at 
twenty-nine,  stabbed  in  the  eye  in  a  tavern  brawl.     Can- 
terbury was  his  birthplace,  and  he  received  his  early  edu- 
cation there  at  the  King's  School,  under  the  shadow  of 
Canterbury  Cathedral.     Later,  he  went  to  Cambridge  Uni- 
versity.    In  London,  a  wild  and  brilHant  dramatic  career 
was  the  precursor  of   an   early  death.     Considering  the 
shortness  of  his  life  and  the  period  at  which  his  work  was 
done,   Marlowe's    achievements  are    among  the  most  re- 
markable   in    EngHsh    literature.     Four    great    tragedies 
stand  to  his  credit  —  besides  other  work  of  less  merit  — 
and  all  of  them  are  productions  of  singular  power.     Each 
of  these  may  be  said  to  represent  some  dominating  idea  or 
ruling  passion. 

Tambnrlaine    deals   with    the    career   of    the    Scythian 
shepherd  king  who  was  termed  "the  Scourge  of  God." 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEAKK  (i 579-1625)  115 

It  is  a  tragedy    of   conquest,  and   portrays    the    lust    for 
tyrannical   and    unrestrained    power.       In    one 

„        ,        ,    .  •      u-       u      •    ^    J  Tamburlaine 

scene  Tamburlaine  appears  \n  his  chariot,  drawn 

by  captive  kings,  whom  he  scourges  with  his  whip,  while 

he  cries: 

Holla,  ye  pamper'd  jades  of  Asia! 
What,  can  ye  drasv  but  twenty  miles  a  day. 
And  have  so  proiul  a  chariot  at  your  heels. 
And  such  a  coachman  as  great  Tamburlaine? 

«  «  «  «  * 

The  horse  that  guide  the  golden  eye  of  heaven, 
And  blow  the  morning  from  their  nostrils. 
Making  their  fiery  gait  above  the  clouds, 
Are  not  so  honour'd  in  their  governor 
As  you,  ye  slaves,  in  mighty  Tamburlaine. 

This  is  bombast,  but  it  is  also  poetry. 

Doctor  Faustus  deals  with  the  mediaeval  legend  after- 
ward handled  in  Goethe's  Faiist,  and  portrays  the  lust  for 
knowledge  and  pleasure.  The  play,  in  spite  of  Doctor 
its  exaggeration  and  comparative  formlessness,  ^*"^^"s 
is  probably  Marlowe's  masterpiece.  In  spirit,  it  represents 
the  man,  with  his  mingled  genius  and  sensuality  ;  and  it 
represents  the  Renaissance,  with  its  passion  for  knowledge 
and  its  delight  in  the  joy  of  living.  Faustus,  in  order  to 
know  and  to  enjoy,  sells  his  soul  to  the  Devil,  When,  at 
last,  his  hour  comes,  the  tragic  situation  is  one  of  terrible 
intensity  : 

The  stars  move  still,  time  nins,  the  clock  will  strike, 
The  devil  will  come,  and  Faustus  must  be  damn'd. 
O,  I'll  leap  up  to  heaven !  —  Who  pulls  me  down?  — 
See,  where  Christ's  blood  streams  in  the  firmament! 
One  drop  of  blood  will  save  me  :   O  my  Christ!  — 
Kcnd  not  my  heart  for  naming  of  my  Christ ; 
Yet  will  I  call  on  him  :  O,  spare  me,  Lucifer! 

The  J  CIV  of  Malta  has  for  its  central  figure  an  avaricious 
and  cruel  Jew,  and  portrays  the  lust  for  wealth  and  for 


Il6     RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

vengeance.     Barabas  is  a  monster  whose  greed  knows  no 
bounds,  and  whose  hate  knows  no  pity.      After 

Jew  of  Malta  .^.  .  ^  1  -i  1  •  1 

committing  the  most  horrible  crimes,  he  comes  to 
his  death  by  being  precipitated  into  a  boihng  caldron  which 
he  had  prepared  for  his  enemies.  Such  lines  as  these  fitly 
express  the  spirit  that  moves  him  : 

For  so  I  live,  perish  may  all  the  world! 

Why,  is  not  this 
A  kingly  kind  of  trade,  to  purchase  towns 
By  treachery  and  sell  'em  by  deceit? 

Die,  life!  fly,  soul!  tongue,  curse  thy  fill,  and  die! 

Edward  //  poYtra.ys  the  agony  of  a  weak  and  impotent 
king.     It  is  perhaps  the  best  of  Marlowe's  plays  in  dra- 
matic   construction,  but  lacks  something:  of  the 

Edward  II  .  ,   ,     ,  ,  r  •  •         •  ,  , 

vigor  and  boldness  01  imagination  that  we  have 
found  so  characteristic  of  Marlowe.  The  other  plays  here 
treated  deal  with  various  conceptions  of  power ;  Edivard  II 
is  rather  Marlowe's  conception  of  the  tragedy  of  weakness 
where  power  should  exist. 

Marlowe  deals  with  great  types  of  human  passion  rather 
than  with  veritable  human  characters.  He  did  not  know, 
like  Shakespeare,  how  to  combine  the  type  and  the  individual 
Marlowe's  ^*^  °"^  living  personality.  Indeed,  his  chief  gift 
Genius  and  is  a  poctic  rather  than  a  dramatic  one.  As  a 
poet,  he  ranks  with  Spenser  and  Shakespeare  ; 
in  the  creation  of  lifeHke  character  and  in  the  construction 
of  dramatic  plot,  he  is  inferior  to  many  of  the  later  drama- 
tists. We  need  to  remember,  however,  that  he  was  a 
pioneer,  and  that  later  playwrights  learned  much  from  him 
as  to  how  they  might  better  his  example.  He  first  taught 
them,  for  example,  the  use  of  the  "  mighty  line  "  which  has 
been  the  greatest  achievement  of  English  metre.  No  less 
true  is  it  that  he,  more  than  any  other  single  man,  deter- 
mined that  English  drama  should  emancipate  itself  from 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  117 

the  tyranny  of  classical  rules  and  models,  and  should  assert 
the  freedom  of  the  modern  romantic  spirit.     Henceforward, 
its  limitations  were  to  be  set  only  by  the  poetic  imagination 
on  the  one  side  and  by  the  multitudinous  variety  of  human 
life  on  the  other.     Marlowe's  distinguishing  qualities  arc 
boldness,  energy,  vitality,  enthusiasm,  rather  than  delicacy, 
subtlety,  or  refinement.     His  faults  and  limitations  are  the 
defects  of  his  qualities.     It  has  been  often  asserted  that 
he  lacked  humor;  but  although  he  is  undoubtedly  far  be- 
hind most  of  the  other  great  dramatists  in  this  particular, 
he  has  a  grim  and  grotesque  humor  of  his  own.     In  addition 
to  the  dramas  just  noted,  he  wrote  the  Massacre  of  Paris, 
collaborated  with  Nash  in  Dido  and  with  Shakespeare  in 
Hcnty  J  7.     His  fine  lyric  gift  is  illustrated  by  his  Passion- 
ate Shepherd  to  his  Love  ;  and  in  Hero  and  Leander,  he 
displays  high  capabilities  as  a  narrative  and    descriptive 
poet.     Here  as  elsewhere  he  manifests  that  passionate  love 
of  beauty  which  is  the  best  evidence  of  his  poetic  inspira- 
tion.    Marlowe  wrote  drama  chiefly  because  he  had  fallen 
upon  a  dramatic  age  and  because  the  field  of  drama  offered 
the  readiest  way  to  literary  fame  for  one  who  had  a  high 
ambitious    heart   but  neither    position    nor   influence.     In 
pure    poetry,  he  might  well  have  rivalled  Spenser,  as  in 
dramatic  poetry  he  did  rival  in  some  respects  even  Shake- 
speare himself.      His   brief    prologue   to    Tavthurlaine,  his 
first   drama,    sounds    like    a  proud  and  at    least    half-con- 
temptuous challenge    to    his  fellow-dramatists  and   to  the 
public  at  large  : 

From  jigging  veins  of  rhyming  mother-wits, 
And  such  conceits  as  clownage  keeps  in  pay, 
We'll  lead  you  to  the  stately  tent  of  war, 
Where  you  shall  hear  the  Scythian  Tamhurlaine 
Threatening  the  world  with  high  astouiuling  terms, 
And  scourging  kingdoms  with  his  conquering  sword. 
View  hut  his  picture  in  this  tragic  glass, 
And  then  applaud  his  fortunes  as  you  i)leasc. 


Il8      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

As  we  approach  the  consideration  of  Shakespeare,  it  is 
important  to  emphasize  anew  the  fact  that  he  was  not  an 
isolated  Hterary  phenomenon,  but  that  his  work  comes  as 
the  culmination  of  a  long  course  of  literary  and  dramatic 
development.  As  we  have  seen,  the  modern  drama,  like 
Drama  before  ^^^  ancient,  arises  out  of  religion.  From  the 
Shakespeare  ritualistic  ceremonies  and  saintly  legends  of  the 
mediaeval  church  sprang  the  Mysteries  and  the  Miracle 
Plays.  This  dramatic  type  was  distinctly  a  product  of  the 
Middle  Ages  and  reached  its  perfection  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  more  than  a  hundred  years  before  Shakespeare 
was  born.  These  mediaeval  plays,  however,  continued  to 
be  acted  throughout  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  Shakespeare  was  familiar  with  them  and 
that  he  had  opportunity  to  witness  their  presentation.  It 
is  quite  within  the  range  of  probability  that  he  had  seen 
enacted  in  his  boyhood  the  plays  of  the  Coventry  cycle ; 
for  Coventry  was  but  twenty  miles  from  his  home  at 
Stratford.  The  Mysteries  and  Miracles  were  followed  by 
the  Moralities  and  Interludes;  and  these,  too,  were  fre- 
quently presented  during  Shakespeare's  lifetime.  Kenil- 
worth  Castle  was  still  nearer  to  his  home  than  Coventry ; 
and  at  Kenilworth,  in  1575,  when  Shakespeare  was  a 
boy  of  eleven,  occurred  the  great  revels  in  honor  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  with  accompaniment  of  pageants,  plays,  and  var- 
ious sorts  of  dramatic  entertainment.  About  a  genera- 
tion before  Shakespeare's  birth,  was  produced  the  first 
English  comedy;  and  the  iirst  tragedy  was  acted  in  1561, 
only  three  years  before  Shakespeare  came  upon  the  stage 
of  life.  From  this  time  dramatic  development  was  rapid. 
Classical  influences  produced  the  "  Senecan  drama  " ;  histor- 
ical interest  gave  rise  to  the  chronicle  plays ;  all  sorts  of  dra- 
matic experiments  were  proving,  selecting,  and  perfecting 
the  forms  of  drama  that  were  fittest  to  survive.  The 
"University   Wits,"    with  their   wide   learning   and   with 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  119 

their  dramatic  skill,  demonstrated  the  literary  and  acting 
qualities  of  the  new  dramatic  types.  Marlowe,  especially, 
brought  really  great  genius  to  bear  upon  dramatic  creation, 
and  even  where  he  failed  himself,  showed  others  the  road. 
Shakespeare's  instrument  was  ready  to  his  hands ;  it  re- 
mained for  him  to  use  it,  with  a  genius  that  understood  all 
its  powers  and  was  splendidly  adapted  to  all  its  capabilities. 
Not  alone  to  obscure  or  famous  workmen  in  the  field 
of  dramatic  development  must  the  genius  of  Shakespeare 
acknowledge  a  debt.  He  is  in  many  more  senses  "  the  heir 
of  all  the  ages."  During  its  long  and  strange  preparation 
history,  the  English  language  had  been  battered  forshake- 
and  smelted  and  forged  and  filed  and  polished,  ^p*^^"^^ 
until  it  was  perhaps  the  most  perfect  literary  instrument 
ever  created.  Many  poets,  with  Chaucer  and  Spenser  as 
their  chiefs,  had  conspired  to  prove  the  power  of  this  lan- 
guage in  the  realms  of  the  higher  imagination,  and  had 
set  models  of  poetic  expression  which  even  the  genius  of 
Shakespeare  must  exert  itself  to  surpass.  Two  races  had 
combined  their  peculiar  qualities  to  make  the  race  out 
of  which  the  greatest  of  dramatists  sprang  ;  and  we  are 
told  that  Shakespeare  had  in  his  own  veins  both  Saxon 
and  Norman  blood.  This  new  race,  moreover,  had  been 
making  centuries  of  splendid  history,  to  enrich  Eliza- 
bethan England  and  to  make  its  very  soil  and  air  full 
of  poetic  inspiration.  The  Renaissance  had  opened  wide 
the  gates  of  a  new  intellectual  life,  and  had  fired  men's 
souls  with  the  passion  for  knowledge,  with  the  passion  for 
achievement,  and  with  the  passion  for  poetry.  The  Refor- 
mation had  stirred  anew  the  deeper  springs  of  the  Eng- 
lish moral  nature  and  had  given  to  ICnglish  life  a  new 
seriousness  as  well  as  a  new  significance.  By  way  of 
more  immediate  influence  upon  Shakespeare's  art,  the 
stage  had  become  a  recognized  social  institution.  The 
age  was  dramatic  in  its  life;  anil  it  called  for  the  dramatic 


120      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

presentation  of  that  life.  Shakespeare  felt  the  power  and 
the  impulse  to  portray  human  character  and  to  set  it  in 
action  upon  the  stage.  He  found  existing  all  the  condi- 
tions favorable  to  his  great  achievement.  He  found  the 
audience  already  gathered  for  the  spectacle. 

William  Shakespeare  was  born  at  Stratford-on-Avon, 
Warwickshire,  in  1564,  the  sixth  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
Shake-  reign.     We  know  comparatively  little  about  his 

speare'sLife  jjfg^  ^^^  ^]^^^  jil-j-|g  jg  ^q^  ^]^g  most  important.    Of 

knowledge  that  throws  real  light  upon  his  work,  we  have 
next  to  nothing.  In  one  sense,  this  is  a  real  loss  and  dis- 
appointment ;  for  men  naturally  have  an  eager  desire  for 
information  concerning  the  greatest  of  all  poets  and  drama- 
tists. From  another  point  of  view  the  loss  does  not  seem 
so  great.  We  have  Shakespeare's  work,  and  that  work  is 
so  extremely  objective  and  so  little  personal  that  it  does 
not  stand  in  much  need  of  interpretation  from  biographical 
facts.  What  manner  of  man  Shakespeare  must  have  been, 
we  can  understand  from  his  work  ;  and  that  is  what  we 
chiefly  wish  to  know.  Nevertheless,  biographical  data  have 
their  interest,  and  it  is  desirable  to  note  the  main  points  in 
his  career.  Not  least  in  importance  is  the  fact  that  his 
boyhood  years  were  spent  in  the  beautiful  "  heart  of 
England."  Here  he  learned  to  know  nature,  as  his  works 
fully  attest.  If  he  had  known  only  that  human  life  of 
which  he  was  so  consummate  a  master,  he  would  still  have 
been  a  great  dramatist ;  but  much  of  its  subtlest  charm 
and  most  poetic  suggestion  would  be  missing  from  his 
work.  In  this  quiet  country  life,  he  doubtless  developed 
his  marvelous  powers  of  observation,  and  probably  learned 
to  know  men  and  women  under  primitive  natural  condi- 
tions before  he  came  to  study  them  in  the  more  compli- 
cated relations  of  the  larger  world.  There  was  much,  too, 
in  his  surroundings  to  kindle  the  poetic  imagination  of  the 
growing  boy.     Warwickshire  was  a  historic  and  romantic 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE   (i 579-1625)  12I 

land,  great  and  interesting  figures  crossed  Stratford  bridge, 
strolling  players  brought  to  the  little  country  town  the 
crude  dramatic  productions  of  the  day.  We  have  no 
actual  record  of  Shakespeare's  experiences  in  such  direc- 
tions as  these  ;  but  we  can  hardly  err  in  assuming  that 
such  conditions  had  their  influence  upon  his  character  and 
genius.  Tradition  tells  us  that  he  attended  the  Stratford 
Grammar  School ;  and  there  he  doubtless  received  the  ordi- 
nary education  of  the  day.  In  addition  to  religious  train- 
ing, Latin  was  the  ordinary  staple  of  intellectual  discipline. 
Ben  Jonson  tells  us  that  Shakespeare  had  "  small  Latin 
and  less  Greek  "  ;  but  Jonson  was  a  classical  scholar  to 
whom  the  ordinary  schoolboy's  training  in  these  lan- 
guages would  seem  of  little  importance.  Small  as  it  was, 
it  doubtless  served  to  give  Shakespeare  some  outlook  into 
the  thought  and  literature  of  the  ancient  world,  to  put  him 
in  touch  with  the  intellectual  spirit  of  his  age.  At  the 
age  of  eighteen,  Shakespeare  married  Anne  Hathaway, 
a  woman  several  years  older  than  hii.isclf.  The  children 
of  this  marriage  were  Susanna  and  the  twins  Hamnet  and 
Judith.  Some  few  years  later,  he  went  up  to  try  his  for- 
tunes in  London.  Tradition  tells  us  that  his  going  was 
accelerated  on  account  of  a  deer-stealing  episode  in  the 
park  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  a  local  magistrate  ;  and  some 
verses  are  e.xtant  in  which  Shakespeare  is  said  to  have 
ridiculed  the  good  knight. 

Whether  impelled  by  this  local  difficulty,  by  the  needs 
of  his  growing  family,  or  by  the  promptings  of  his  own 
genius,  Shakespeare  found  in  London  the  opportunities  for 
his  great  career.  II is  first  connection  with  the  theatre  is 
said  to  have  been  a  very  humble  one;  but  he  found  there 
his  proper  atmosj)hcre,  and  his  genius  quickly  ghake 
made  itself  felt.      lie  became  an   actor,  then  a  spcare'sDra- 

r      1  1        1  r         iL  i  .^  •         matic  Career 

reviser  of  old  plays  for  the  stage,  next  an  orig- 
inal   i)laywright,    and    finally    a   theatrical    manager    and 


122      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

owner.  Before  he  was  thirty,  he  was  well  known  as  a 
dramatist.  There  is  good  evidence  of  his  familiar  asso- 
ciation with  eminent  dramatists  and  with  other  great  men 
of  his  day,  and  he  attracted  the  favorable  notice  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  He  grew  prosperous  and  acquired 
considerable  property  in  his  native  Stratford.  For  many 
years  he  lived  mostly  in  London,  but  visited  his  old  home 
from  time  to  time.  At  about  the  age  of  fifty,  he  retired 
to  Stratford,  gave  up  his  dramatic  career,  and  passed  his 
last  years  in  the  quiet  life  of  a  country  gentleman.  He 
died  in  1616  at  the  age  of  fifty-two,  and  was  buried  in  the 
chancel  of  the  Stratford  parish  church.  These  bare  facts 
of  his  life  tell  us  little  of  his  inward  experience.  The  spirit- 
ual history  of  the  man  we  must  read,  if  at  all,  in  his  works. 
The  whole  body  of  Shakespeare's  writings  falls  natu- 
rally into  three  divisions,  corresponding  to  three  different 
Shake-  manifestations  of  his   poetic  or  dramatic  power, 

speare's  Mis-  'pj^ggg    divisions    cousist   of    his    miscellaneous 

cellaneous 

Poems  poems,  his  sonnets,   and  his  dramas.     His  first 

known  poem  was  Vemis  and  Adonis.  He  called  it  "the 
first  heir  of  my  invention,"  and  dedicated  it  to  his  noble 
friend  and  patron,  Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southamp- 
ton. It  is  above  all  things  a  poem  of  youth,  but  of  youth 
endowed  with  genius  and  filled  with  poetic  passion.  Sen- 
suousness  is  the  word  that  best  expresses  its  dominating 
quaUty.  We  feel  that  the  poet  was  alive  to  all  the  physical 
beauty  of  the  world  about  him,  that  all  his  senses  were 
avenues  of  fresh  delight.  Whatever  faults  the  poem  may 
have  are  simply  the  excess  of  the  youthful  poetic  tempera- 
ment. Its  merits  are  such  as  form  the  proper  groundwork 
for  his  later  poetic  and  dramatic  achievements.  The  poem 
is  filled  with  the  charm  of  rural  nature,  made  vital  by  the 
sympathetic  treatment  of  passionate  love.  What  an  eye 
for  natural  detail  and  what  a  faculty  for  concrete  imagery 
are  illustrated  in  the  description  of  the  wild  boar  : 


H 
X 

> 
-i 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  123 

On  his  bow-back  he  hath  a  battle  set 

Of  bristly  pikes,  that  ever  threat  his  foes ; 

His  eyes,  like  glow-worms,  shine  when  he  doth  fret ; 

His  snout  digs  sepulchres  where'er  he  goes. 

What  power  of  imaginative  suggestion  in  the  words  : 

Whereat  amazed,  as  one  that  unaware 
Hath  dropp'd  a  precious  jewel  in  the  flood. 

Lucrece  is  a  bitterly  tragic  story,  going  beyond  Venus 
and  Adonis  in  seriousness  and  depth,  but  characterized  by 
many  of  the  same  qualities.  The  reader  is  here  more  dis- 
turbed by  the  fanciful  conceits  and  puns,  such  as. 

So  I  at  each  sad  strain  will  strain  a  tear. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  a  growing  sententiousness  of 
e.xpression  which  illustrates  Shakespeare's  own  growth  in 
worldly  wisdom.  In  the  following  stanza,  almost  every 
line  is  a  separate  aphorism,  all  circling  around  the  same 
general  idea : 

Tis  double  death  to  drown  in  ken  of  shore ; 
He  ten  times  pines  tliat  pines  beholding  food; 
To  see  the  salve  doth  make  the  wound  ache  more; 
Great  grief  grieves  most  at  that  would  do  it  good  ; 
Deep  woes  roll  forward  like  a  gentle  flood, 

Wiio,  being  stopp'd,  tiie  bounding  banks  o'erflows ; 

Grief  dallied  with  nor  law  nor  limit  knows. 

Minor  poems  of  the  same  group  are  A  Lovers  Covi- 
plaint,  The  Passionate  Pilgritn,  and  'J7ie  Plicenix  and  the 
Turtle. 

If  Venus  and  Adonis  displays  the  poet's  earthly  and 
sensual  part,  the  Sonnets  may  be  said  to  illustrate  his 
transition  to  a  higher  ])lane  of  life  and  thought.  „.  , 
They  are  moved  by  strong  passion,  but  they  take  speare-s  son 
a  vastly  wider  sweep  of  thought  and  of  poetic  "'''^ 
invention.  Their  theme  is  love — the  love  of  man  for  man 
and  the  love  of  man  for  woman  ;  and  that  theme  is  treated 
with  a  poetic  j)ower  matched  only  by  the  profuiUKJ  knuwl- 


124      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

edge  of  the  human  heart.  The  whole  number  of  the 
Sonnets  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-four.  The  first  one 
hundred  and  twenty-six  are  addresed  to  a  certain  noble 
and  beautiful  youth,  "  a  man  right  fair " ;  and  the  re- 
mainder are  addressed  to  a  certain  dark  lady,  "  a  woman 
coloured  ill."  The  young  man  is  praised  for  his  noble 
qualities  of  mind  and  person,  is  warned  against  the  temp- 
tations that  beset  his  rank,  is  urged  to  marry  and  to  per- 
petuate himself  in  his  offspring. 

From  fairest  creatures  we  desire  increase, 
That  thereby  beauty's  rose  might  never  die. 

He  is  continually  addressed  in  language  of  passionate 
tenderness,  language  that  bespeaks  a  love  *'  passing  the 
love  of  women."  Even  in  the  friend's  absence  and  aliena- 
tion, this  love  remains  constant.  It  desires  to  see  the 
loved  one  redeemed  from  evil  courses  and  faithful  to  his 
own  best  self. 

O,  how  much  more  doth  beauty  beauteous  seem 
By  that  sweet  ornament  which  truth  doth  give. 

The  sonnets  addressed  to  the  "  dark  woman  "  seem  to 
imply  on  her  part  an  irresistible  fascination,  but  a  fickle, 
selfish,  and  impure  heart.  She  has  been  false  to  the  poet, 
she  has  come  between  him  and  his  friend,  yet  he  can  not 
break  away  from  her  evil  spell.  It  may  well  be  conceived 
how  many  phases  of  love  these  situations  involved  and 
what  opportunities  were  given  to  Shakespeare  for  showing 
his  unparalleled  insight  into  the  workings  of  the  human 
heart.  The  question  remains  whether  the  Sonnets  reflect 
actual  personal  experiences  of  Shakespeare's  life.  Did 
he  here  "  unlock  his  heart,"  or  did  he  not }  Some  have 
seen  in  these  poems  merely  a  poet's  flattery  of  a  noble 
and  influential  patron.  Others  have  regarded  them  as 
mere  literary  exercises,  in  which  the  poet  studied  and  ex- 
pressed those  human  moods  which  in  his  dramas  he  was        v. 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE   (1579-1625)  125 

to  portray  on  a  larger  scale.  The  difficulty  is  one  which 
our  limited  knowledge  of  Shakespeare's  life  does  not  en- 
able us  to  solve.  The  personal  interpretation  has  been 
most  common  and  seems  most  natural ;  and  there  are 
many  passages  which  appear  to  carry  a  personal  mean- 
ing. Whatever  view  be  taken,  the  tlu)u_>;ht,  the  feeling, 
the  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  above  all  the  ex- 
quisite poetry  are  unquestionably  Shakespeare's.  If  the 
SonNits  be  personal,  they  reveal  the  stain  on  Shake- 
speare's character  of  an  unholy  love ;  they  show  him  as 
a  man  who  had  both  sinned  and  suffered.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  show  him  as  one  who  had  struggled  up  out  of 
the  mire  toward  a  nobler  plane  of  living  and  a  larger 
sympathy  with  all  human  weakness.  Something  of  this 
is  expressed  in  his  own  words : 

Alas,  "tis  true  I  have  gone  here  and  there 

And  made  myself  a  motley  to  the  view, 

Gor'd  mine  own  thoughts,  sold  cheap  what  is  most  dear, 

Made  old  oflfences  of  affections  new  ; 

Most  true  it  is  that  I  have  look'd  on  truth 

Askance  and  strangely :  but.  by  all  above, 

These  blenches  gave  my  heart  another  youth. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Sonnets,  and  the  one  per- 
haps whose  sentiment  is  most  typical  of  the  whole  series, 
is  here  given  in  full : 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 

Admit  impediments.     Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds. 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove: 

O,  no  !  it  is  an  ever-fixed  mark 

That  looks  on  tempests  and  is  never  shaken  ; 

It  is  the  star  to  every  wandering  bark. 

Whose  worth's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 

Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come ; 

Love  alters  not  witli  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 


126      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (i 500-1660) 

But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom. 
If  this  be  error  and  upon  me  prov'd, 
I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  lov'd. 

Shakespeare's  crowning  work  is  to  be  found  in  his 
dramas,  and  it  is  these  that  call  for  fullest  considera- 
tion. The  common  classification  divides  them 
speare's  into  comcdics,  tragedies,  and  history  or  chronicle 
Dramas  plays.     Significant  as  these  divisions   are,  it  is 

more  important  for  our  present  purpose  that  we  should 
group  the  plays  with  reference  to  the  several  periods  of 
Shakespeare's  life  which  they  illustrate.  This  will  enable 
us  to  see  how  the  work  in  some  degree  reflects  the  genius, 
the  character,  and  the  experience  of  the  man.  Following 
the  suggestive  outline  of  Professor  Brandl,  we  may  note 
five  periods  of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  career,  together 
with  the  considerable  group  of  dramas  belonging  to  each. 

The  first  period  probably  covers  approximately  the  years 
from  1588  to  1594.  It  is  known  as  the  period  of  Shake- 
First  Dra-  speare's  dramatic  apprenticeship  —  the  period 
matic  Period  in  which  he  was  reshaping  old  plays,  watching 
the  work  of  other  men,  learning  the  requirements  and 
capabilities  of  the  stage,  making  his  first  original  exper- 
iments, trying  his  own  powers  in  various  directions.  All 
three  classes  of  dramas  are  represented.  Among  com- 
edies we  find  Loves  Labour  s  Lost,  Comedy  of  Err'ors,  Tzvo 
Gentlevien  of  Verona,  and  A  Midsiinimer  Night' s  Dream ; 
among  tragedies,  Tit2is  Androniciis  and  Romeo  and  Juliet ; 
among  histories,  Henry  PY  (three  parts),  RicJiard  LIL,  and 
Richard  II.  It  so  happens  that  one  play  in  each  of  these 
three  classes  stands  out  far  above  the  rest  —  something 
more  than  prentice  work,  filled  rather  with  promise  of  the 
supreme  masterpieces  to  come.  A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  is  pure  sport  of  the  fancy.  Human  life  is  por- 
trayed, from  noble  to  clown,  but  it  is  human  Hfe  played 
upon    by   the    whimsical    magic    of   fairy    sprites.       Puck 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  127 

misleads  and  confuses  the  romantic  lovers ;  Titania,  the 
fairy  queen,  is  enamored  of  bully  Bottom,  the  weaver,  who 
has  been  transformed  into  an  ass  ;  all  sorts  of  fantastic 
happenings  are  possible  in  the  poetic  atmosphere  of  this 
moonlight  wood.  The  spirit  of  the  drama  is  suggested  by 
such  lines  as  these  : 

Puck.  What  fools  these  mortals  be. 

Theseus.  The  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet 

Are  of  imagination  all  compact. 

Romeo  and  Juliet  is  the  extremely  beautiful  and  poetical 
tragedy  of  youthful  passion.  Against  the  dark  back- 
ground of  hatred  and  feud  between  the  two  houses  of 
Montague  and  Capulet,  the  fair  young  lovers  stand.  They 
meet,  they  love,  they  yield  themselves  to  each  other  as 
though  love  were  its  own  defence  and  had  no  need  to 
fear  the  thunderbolt.  They  are  encompassed,  however,  by 
forces  which  they  can  not  break  through  ;  and  the  dark 
fate  which  holds  them  in  its  circle  allows  only  that  they 
should  die  together.  Richard  III  is  one  of  the  best  acting 
dramas  among  Shakespeare's  historical  plays.  Though 
somewhat  crude  as  compared  with  his  best  work,  it  is  a 
wonderfully  impressive  production.  Richard  is  a  tremen- 
dous figure,  and  the  action  is  guided  by  the  motives  of 
ambition,  cruelty,  and  remorse.  In  addition  to  the  dramas 
mentioned,  the  miscellaneous  poems  also  belong  to  this 
period. 

Shakespeare's  second  period  is  called  by  Brandl  the 
Falstaff  Period.  It  is  otherwise  described  as  the  period 
of  Shakespeare's  great  comedies,  of  his  rapid  second  Dra 
growth  in  dramatic  art,  of  his  broader  and  richer  ™atic  Period 
knowledge  of  human  life.  The  Sonnets  belong  to  this 
period,  and  they  indicate  that  it  was  a  time  of  transition 
from  youth  to  mature  manhood.  The  years  covered  are 
from  about  1595  to  about  1600.  One  notable  feature  of 
the  period  is  that  it  contains  no  tragedies.     Its  comedies 


128       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

are  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  and  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing;  its  histories  are  King  John,  Henry  /F  (two 
parts),  and  Henry  V.  Again  one  play  in  each  class  is 
decidedly  superior  to  the  others.  The  MercJiant  of  Venice 
is  the  greatest  of  Shakespeare's  comedies,  the  greatest 
comedy  of  the  world.  Shylock  is  the  grandest  figure  that 
the  dramatist  has  thus  far  created.  The  victory  of  the 
Christians  over  the  despised  but  implacable  Jew  makes 
him  a  tragic  victim  in  the  midst  of  the  joyous  and  brilliant 
life  around  him.  In  Portia,  Shakespeare  has  gone  beyond 
Juliet,  and  has  portrayed  one  of  his  noblest  and  most 
richly  endowed  women.  The  comedy  is  bright  with 
humor,  beautiful  with  romance,  rich  with  poetry ;  but  it  is 
also  deep  and  serious  in  its  underlying  conception  of  life. 
Christian  contempt  breeds  Jewish  hatred.  Revenge 
through  subtlety  and  cunning  is  the  natural  impulse  of  the 
oppressed  race.  The  superior  race  becomes  proud,  con- 
temptuous, arrogant,  and  cruel  in  its  superiority.  In  the 
antagonism  between  the  two  races,  power  is  on  the  side  of 
the  Christians.  They  pass  over  to  happiness  and  light  and 
laughter  at  Belmont,  while  the  thwarted  and  beaten  Jew 
slinks  away  to  his  kennel  in  the  Ghetto.  Such  are  some  of 
the  striking  features  of  this  masterly  drama.  In  Hcjiry  IV, 
we  have  Shakespeare's  greatest  historical  play.  Here 
three  notable  figures  stand  in  significant  relation  to  each 
other.  In  the  centre  is  Prince  Hal,  spending  his  youth  in 
wild  dissipation,  but  cherishing  high  and  noble  purposes  in 
his  heart.  On  the  one  side  of  him  is  the  superb  comic 
figure  of  Falstaff,  associate  of  his  folly  and  riotous  living. 
On  the  other  side  is  Hotspur,  inciting  him  by  high  example 
to  the  emulation  of  noble  deeds.  Prince  Hal  sows  his 
wild  oats,  but  at  the  crisis  plays  the  man  and  shows  him- 
self in  due  time  to  be  a  wise,  valiant,  and  upright  king. 
One  can    hardly  help  comparing  his  career  with  Shake- 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  129 

speare's  own.  We  have  some  reason  to  suppose  that 
Shakespeare  also  sowed  his  wild  oats  and  had  opportunity 
to  see  "by  means  of  the  Evil  that  Good  is  best."  He 
knew  well  that  the  sowing  of  wild  oats  brings  its  proper 
harvest ;  but  he  also  knew  the  possibilities  of  human 
redemption  from  the  ways  of  folly  and  sin. 

We  have  seen  in  Shakespeare's  second  period  the  evi- 
dences of  a  broadening  and  deepening  conception  of  hu- 
man life.     It  is  this  more  serious  view  of  the  Third  Dra 
world  that  is  characteristic  of  his  third  period,  matic  Period 
extending  from  1601  to  1604.     It  is  fittingly  designated  as 
the  Hamlet  Period.     The  comedies  of  the  period  are  As 
You  Like  It,   Ttvf/fth  Night,  All's    Well  that  Ends  Well, 
and  Measure  for  Measure  ;  the  tragedies  arc/ulius  CcFsar, 
Hamlet,  and  Othello.     The  first-named  comedy  is  the  best 
of  its  group.     It  is  a  beautiful  pastoral  romance.     Not  the 
least  significant  thing  about  it  is  the  way  in  which,  amid 
all   its   lightness   and  gayety,   it   strikes  the   deeper  note. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  well-known  passage  beginning, 
"  All  the  world's  a  stage."     It  appears  also  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  "melancholy  Jaques,"  who  is  a  dim  anticipa- 
tion of   Hamlet.     Measure  for  Measure  \'S>  almost  tragic  in 
its  bitterness.    Julius  dcsarx's,  the  greatest  of  Shakespeare's 
Roman  dramas.     The  other  two  tragedies  are  the  dramas 
most  characteristic  of  the  period.     In  Hamlet,  "  the  world 
is  out  of  joint,"  and  the  tragedy  of  human  life  is  deep  and 
incurable.     That   tragedy    lies  in    Hamlet's    own    nature. 
He  is  brave,  he  is  resolute  ;  but  in  him  "  the  native  hue  of 
resolution  is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought." 
It  is  not  that   he   is   incapable  of    vigorous  and  decisive 
action  ;  he  can  act  as  swiftly  and  directly  as  the  best  when 
he  is  absolutely  sure  of  his  grounds.     His  difTiculty  is  that 
he  sees  too  clearly  all  the  consequences  and  imi)lications 
of  his  deed.      In  him  we  have  a  finely  organized,  intellec- 
tual, and  imaginative  temperament  hamjjering  the  j)ower 


130      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

of  action  and  of  will.  He  realizes  his  own  defect,  and,  im- 
patient at  himself,  acts  at  times  with  a  sudden  rashness. 
Caught  at  last  in  the  toils,  he  falls  a  victim  to  his  own 
most  noble  temperament.  He  brings  down  his  enemies 
with  him  in  his  fall ;  but  he  must  perforce  leave  to  others 
the  task  of  setting  the  world  to  rights.  Othello  has  com- 
monly been  interpreted  as  a  tragedy  of  jealousy  ;  but  it  is 
rather  a  tragedy  of  conflict  between  three  great  forces  — ■ 
jealousy,  honor,  and  wedded  love.  Othello  is  not  a  type 
of  the  jealous  spirit  —  a  negro  savage  breaking  through 
the  restraints  of  civilized  life.  He  is  not  at  all  by  nature 
a  jealous  man.  The  true  exemplar  of  jealousy  in  the 
drama  is  lago.  By  the  most  deviUsh  ingenuity  he  per- 
suades Othello  of  the  infidelity  of  Desdemona  and  rouses 
him  to  action.  The  spirit  in  which  Othello  kills  Desde- 
mona is  well  expressed  in  his  own  words  : 

For  naught  I  did  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour. 

Honor  and  love  struggle  for  the  mastery  in  his  great  soul. 
He  would  fain  avoid  the  task  that  he  feels  to  be  laid  upon 
him,  but  his  sense  of  duty  and  of  justice  is  too  strong. 
When  his  awful  deed  is  done  and  he  realizes  his  fatal 
mistake,  it  is  love  that  triumphs  in  his  soul.  These  words 
should  be  his  vindication  : 

When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate, 
Speak  of  me  as  I  am  ;  nothing  extenuate, 
Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice  ;  then  must  you  speak 
Of  one  that  loved  not  wisely  but  too  well ; 
Of  one  not  easily  jealous,  but  being  wrought 
PerplexM  in  the  extreme  ;  of  one  whose  hand, 
Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 
Richer  than  all  his  tribe. 

From  1605  to  1608  extends  a  fourth  period  which  is  in 
Fourth  Dra-  many  ways  a  continuation  of  the  third.  The 
matic  Period  gensc  of  tragedy  in  human  life  grows  still 
deeper.     A  real  bitterness  against  the  world  seems  to  have 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  131 

come  into  the  poet's  soul.  He  is  on  the  verge  of  pessi- 
mism and  misanthropy.  The  cheerful  and  hopeful  view 
of  life  seems  for  the  time  to  have  passed  utterly  away. 
It  is  the  Lear  Period.  Here  are  the  tragedies,  Coriolanus, 
King  Lear,  Macbeth,  and  Aniony  and  Cleopatra  ;  here,  also, 
are  two  dramas,  the  one  a  comedy  and  the  other  a  tragedy, 
which  Brandl  characterizes  as  satirical  dramas,  Troilus 
and  Cnssida  and  Timon  of  Athens.  These  last  two  plays, 
in  their  bitterness  and  misanthropy,  are  in  a  sense  the 
most  characteristic  of  the  period.  They  show  Shake- 
speare's extreme  reach  in  this  direction  ;  and  they  show 
also  that  even  Shakespeare  could  not  create  great  work  in 
such  a  spirit.  The  greatest  dramas  of  the  period  are  the  two 
mighty  tragedies.  King  Lear  and  JSFacbetJi.  In  King  Lear, 
Shakespeare  has  drawn  a  dark  and  awful  i^icture  of  the 
ingratitude  of  children  toward  a  father.  The  old  king  has 
divided  his  kingdom  between  his  two  eldest  daughters, 
casting  off  his  youngest  child,  Cordelia,  because  she  will 
not  stoop  to  flatter  him  in  his  folly.  The  cruelty  of  his 
children  drives  Lear  to  madness  and  despair.  There  is  no 
more  terrible  and  pathetic  picture  in  literature  than  that 
of  the  mad  king,  bareheaded  in  the  tempest,  with  no 
companion  save  his  poor  faithful  fool.  The  story  of 
Gloster  and  his  cruel  son  affords  both  parallel  and  con- 
trast to  the  main  action.  The  meaning  of  the  drama  lies 
in  the  words  : 

How  shaqier  than  a  .serpent's  tooth  it  is 

To  have  a  thankless  child. 

Its  cruelties  suggest  the  question  of  Lear,  "  Is  there 
any  cause  in  nature  that  makes  these  hard  hearts  .-*  " 
Macbeth  is  a  tragedy  of  ambition,  of  crime,  of  remorse, 
of  retribution.  The  witches  upon  the  barren  heath,  with 
their  "supernatural  soliciting,"  have  lodged  in  Macbeth's 
mind  the  tcmi)ting  suggestion  that  he  shall  be  king.  With 
the  eiicoaragement  and    help   of    his  wife,   he   [)lans   and 


132      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

accomplishes  the  murder  of  the  good  King  Duncan.  One 
crime  necessitates  another ;  and  first  he  murders  Banquo 
and  then  annihilates  the  family  of  Macduff.  The  ghost 
of  Banquo,  sitting  at  his  table,  invisible  to  all  but  him, 
marks  the  beginning  of  his  terrible  punishment.  Like 
Richard  III,  he  has  all  the  courage  of  a  man  and  a  sol- 
dier, can  truly  say,  "  what  man  dare,  I  dare  "  ;  but  the 
guilt  in  his  heart  makes  him  afraid  of  shadows.  Lady 
Macbeth,  too,  is  haunted  by  the  same  remorse ;  she  walks 
in  her  sleep,  rubbing  her  hands  in  agony,  and  crying,  "  all 
the  perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand." 
When  her  death  is  announced  to  Macbeth,  he  replies  in 
a  tone  of  despairing  pessimism  : 

She  should  have  died  hereafter  ; 

There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  a  word. 

To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 

Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day 

To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time, 

And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 

The  way  to  dusty  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle  ! 

Life's  but  a  walking  shadow,  a  poor  player 

That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage 

And  then  is  heard  no  more  ;  it  is  a  tale 

Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 

Signifying  nothing. 

Fortunately  for  Shakespeare  and  for  the  world,  his 
mood  of  bitterness  does  not  last.  He  does  not  cease  to 
regard  life  seriously,  he  does  not  entirely  escape  from  the 
sense  of  gloom  and  tragedy ;  but  he  passes  on  into  a 
serener  mood. 

In  which  the  burthen  of  the  mystery. 

In  which  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 

Of  all  this  unintelligible  world, 

Is  lightened.^ 

This  fifth  period  lies  between  the  years  1608  and 
161 3.     It  has  been  called  the  period  of  the  Romances;  it 

1  Wordsworth,  Lines  composed  near  Tintern  Abbey. 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (i 579-1625)  133 

contains  three  "  romance-comedies,"  —  Cymbclinc,  The 
Winter  s  Tale,  and  The  Tevif^est  —  and  a  "  romance-his- 
tory," Henry  J  HI.  Shakespeare  had  always  been  piftj,  u^a- 
a  romantic  poet;  but  here  the  word  "romantic"  matic  Period 
seems  to  take  on  a  larger  and  higher  meaning.  The  poet 
turns  away  from  the  heart-breaking  realities  of  the  actual 
world  to  a  realm  of  pure  and  serene  imagination  of  which 
he  alone  is  the  creator  and  the  potent  lord.  The  typical 
play  of  the  period  is  The  Tempest.  It  is  in  some  sense  an 
epitome  of  all  that  he  has  done.  Here  is  human  life,  from 
Prospero  the  seer  to  Trinculo  the  drunken  jester,  from  Fer- 
dinand the  prince  to  Miranda  "so  perfect  and  so  peer- 
less." Here,  also,  is  Ariel  the  "  tricksy  spirit,"  and  here 
Caliban  the  half-beast.  The  human  life  is  real,  but  it  is 
surrounded  with  an  atmosphere  of  enchantment  such  as 
exists  only  in  Prospero's  magic  isle.  The  wonders  of  the 
play  are  a  type  of  the  wonders  which  Shakespeare's  imagi- 
nation has  conjured  up  before  the  world.  He  has  scooped 
out  of  nothingness  a  new  realm  of  dreams  which  he  has 
peopled  with  figures  almost  as  real  as  those  of  actual  life. 
He  has  taught  us  in  The  Tempest  that  human  life  itself  is 
a  dream, 

And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 
The  cioud-capp'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  .solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded. 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind.    We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  on,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. 

With  such  words  as  these  Shakespeare  closes  his  great 
career,  and  goes  liome  to  his  quiet  life  and  ciuict  death  at 
Stratford.  "  'i'hc  rest  is  silence."  "  Like  Prospero,  he  has 
broken  his  staff  and  cast  his  book  into  the  sea,  into  a  depth 
which  the  plummet  will  never  sound  "  Put  his  work  remains. 


134      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

He  is  the  largest  figure  in  tlie  world's  literature  —  preem- 
inently great  as  a  poet,  as  a  dramatist,  as  an  artist  in  form, 
as  a  seer  and  interpreter  of  human  life.    The 

Shake-  ,  .        . 

speares  great  business  of  a  dramatist  is  to  create  living 
Gemus  human  characters  that  shall  be  at  once  individual 

and  typical,  and  to  bring  these  characters  into  such  rela- 
tions with  each  other  as  shall  produce  a  true  and  har- 
monious picture  of  human  life.  Shakespeare's  genius  was 
adequate  to  all  the  demands  of  such  a  task.  He  had  an 
unequalled  knowledge  of  humanity,  a  deep  and  true  in- 
sight into  life  and  character.  The  subtlety  of  his  analysis 
was  matched  only  by  the  force  and  vividness  of  his  crea- 
tive power  in  the  portrayal  of  living  men  and  women.  In 
his  almost  infinite  variety  there  is  truly  "  God's  plenty." 
No  man  has  ever  had  such  breadth  and  intensity  of  artistic 
sympathy;  and  no  man  has  ever  been  more  objective  and 
impartial  in  his  treatment  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men.  The  range  of  his  dramatic  power  is  amazing;  but 
his  mastery  of  form  seems  always  commensurate  with  his 
powers  of  conception.  His  stage  is  the  world,  his  char- 
acters are  types  of  universal  mankind,  his  subject  is  the 
human  soul.  In  his  portrayal,  he  seems  to  mingle  and 
fuse  apparently  contradictory  elements.  His  imagination 
unites  the  realistic  with  the  romantic,  combines  the  humor- 
ous and  grotesque  with  what  is  most  deeply  tragic.  The 
development  of  his  art  —  and  doubtless  of  his  character  — 
■was  toward  self-confidence,  self-mastery,  serenity,  a  gen- 
erous but  profound  morality.  If  any  man  was  ever  in  har- 
mony with  nature,  it  was  he.  Consciously  or  unconsciously, 
he  understood  the  world  in  which  he  lived,  sympathized 
with  it,  and  had  the  power  to  portray  it.  As  a  pure 
poet,  he  is  almost  equally  great.  He  was  "of  imagination 
all  compact."  He  had  the  poet's  passion  for  beauty  and 
the  poet's  gift  of  music.  Without  these  special  powers, 
he  might  still  have  been  a  great  dramatist  j    but  his  dra- 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  135 

Tnatic  work  is  immeasurably  exalted  by  his  genius  as  a  poet. 
It  is  the  glorvof  his  art  that  he  is  at  once  supremely  poetic 
and  supremely  true. 

Ben  Jonson  —  probably,  all  things  considered,  the  great- 
est of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  contemporaries  —  was  a 
younger  man  than  Shakespeare  by  nearly  ten  years,  and 
lived  for  over  twenty  years  after  Shakespeare's 

,_,       ,  ,  .  1        r     1  Bd  Jonson 

death.     The  best  dramatic  work  of  the  two  men, 
however,  was  substantially  contemporary,  and  their  inti- 
mate   personal  association  naturally  links  them  together. 
Jonson's    genius    is    in    very   great  contrast  with    that  of 
Shakespeare   and  at  almost    the    opposite    extreme    from 
that   of    Marlowe.      He    was    probably    not    a   university 
man  ;    but,  nevertheless,  he  was   perhaps  quite  the  most 
learned  poet  of  his  age.     The  foundations  of  his  scholar- 
ship were  well  laid  by  an  excellent  education    at  West- 
minster School,  under  the  walls   of   Westminster  Abbey 
in     London  ;     and    upon    this    foundation    he    zealously 
built    by    his   own    lifelong   efforts    as    a    student.      His 
learning    was    chiefly    classical,    as    was    natural    in    that 
age  of  the   Renaissance ;  and  it  united   with  the  natural 
bent  of   Jonson's  mind  to  make  him   the  great  classical 
dramatist  in   an  age  of  romantic  writers.     We   have   ob- 
served the  tendency   to  conform   English   drama  to  clas- 
sical models  —  a  tendency  that  was  resisted  and  overcome 
chiefly  by  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare.     With  this  classical 
tendency  Jonson  was  largely  in  sympathy  ;  and  if  all  the 
Elizabethan  dramatists  had  been  of  his  mind,  the  character 
of  English  drama  would  have  been  far  different.     Jonson, 
moreover,   was  less  a  born  genius  than  u  conscious  and 
trained  artist.     He  was  not,  like  Marlowe,  swept  away  by 
his  passion  ;  rather,  he  thorough l-y  understood  his  business 
as  a  dramatist,  and   accomj)lished    his   results   with   fore- 
thought  and    deliberation.     The    common    antithesis    has 
been  that  Jon.son   had  art  while  Shakespeare  had  nature, 


136      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

and  it  is  as  true  as  any  such  general  statement  can  well 
be.  Still  another  point  of  difference  between  Jonson  and 
most  other  Elizabethan  dramatists  lies  in  the  fact  that  he 
was  very  much  of  a  realist.  His  experience  had  been 
such  as  to  give  him  a  wide  and  accurate  knowledge  of 
men  and  things.  He  was  a  keen  and  shrewd  observer, 
and  his  mind  was  stored  with  such  superficial  knowledge 
of  life  and  character  as  observation  can  give.  In  particu- 
lar, he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  life  of  London,  and 
had  an  inclination  and  an  aptitude  for  the  portrayal  of 
its  oddities  and  whimsicalities  —  what  he  called  its  "hu- 
mours." There  is  nothing  of  this  in  Marlowe  ;  there  is 
little  in  Shakespeare,  although  he  —  thoroughgoing  ro- 
manticist as  he  was  —  knew  how  in  his  own  way  to  reach 
the  essential  realities  of  life.  It  may  be  further  observed 
that  Jonson,  like  Shakespeare,  knew  the  theatre,  and  was 
therefore  a  practical  playwright  as  well  as  a  theoretical 
artist.  This  has  given  to  his  best  plays  an  acting  quality 
which  is  lacking  in  the  dramas  of  Marlowe  and  of  some 
later  as  well  as  earlier  writers.  The  personal  characteris- 
tics of  the  man  are  scarcely  less  interesting  than  his  genius, 
and  have  at  least  an  indirect  relation  to  his  literary  work. 
He  was  a  burly  figure  —  direct,  honest,  and  independent. 
His  nature  was  aggressive  and  pugnacious,  and  in  the 
course  of  his  life  he  had  many  quarrels  on  his  hands,  lit- 
erary and  otherwise.  It  is  reported  that  he  killed  two 
men  in  duels  and  that  he  came  near  being  hanged.  He 
was  in  every  way  a  commanding  personality  and  came 
nearer  than  any  other  man  to  dominating  the  great  circle 
in  which  he  moved.  Withal,  he  was  genial  and  convivial, 
a  central  figure  in  the  tavern  combats  of  wit.  Speaking 
of  Shakespeare,  Thomas  Fuller  writes :  "  Many  were  the 
wit-combats  betwixt  him  and  Ben  Jonson,  which  two  I 
behold  like  a  Spanish  great  galleon  and  an  English 
man-of-war ;    Master    Jonson,  like  the    former,  was  built 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  137 

far  higher  in  learning,  soHd,  but  slow  in  his  perform- 
ances. Shakespeare,  with  the  English  man-of-war,  lesser 
in  bulk  but  lighter  in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  tack 
about,  and  take  advantage  of  all  winds  by  the  quickness  of 
his  wit  and  invention."  In  a  word,  Jonson  was  a  man  to 
be  loved,  hated,  but  never  ignored.  His  epitaph,  carved 
in  three  separate  places  in  Westminster  Abbey,  is  one  of 
the  most  appropriate  and  suggestive  ever  written  :  "  O  rare 
Ben  Johnson  ! " 

Jonson's  first  play  was  a  comedy  with  the  characteristic 
title,  Every  Man  in  his  Hitvioitr.  It  deals  with  certain 
phases  of  London  life,  and  illustrates  his  realism,  jonson-s 
his  treatment  of  "  humours,"  and  his  observance  Dramas 
of  classical  rules.  This  was  shortly  followed  by  Every 
Man  out  of  his  Ilumonr.  Other  plays  of  the  same  gen- 
eral type  are  Tlie  Silent  Woman  and  The  AleJieniist.  The 
latter  is  probably  his  masterpiece  in  comedy.  Its  theme  is 
quacker)',  and  its  central  figures  are  three  finely  contrasted 
impostors — Subtle,  Face,  and  Dol  Common.  They  are 
banded  together  to  du])c  "  not  one  or  two  gulls,  but  a 
whole  flock  of  them."  The  notable  figure  of  the  play  is 
the  famous  Sir  Epicure  Mammon,  a  singular  compound 
of  lu.xury,  lust,  credulity,  greed,  and  fertile  imagination. 
The  plot  becomes  very  complicated,  as  the  various  dupes 
all  flock  to  the  house  at  the  same  time  and  yet  must  be 
kept  from  knowledge  of  each  other.  Jonson  weaves 
these  various  threads  of  interest  into  a  most  masterly 
plot,  and  leads  up  with  great  skill  to  the  humorous  catas- 
trophe. Volpone,  or  TJie  Fox,  is  not  so  much  the  treat- 
ment of  a  "humour"  as  of  a  master  passion.  Its  central 
figure  is  an  avaricious  Venetian  nobleman^^  There  is  in  it 
more  f)f  romantic  atmosphere  than  in  most  of  Jonson's 
dramas.  Representative  of  his  more  purely  classical  work 
and  al.so  of  his  method  in  tragedy,  arc  his  Sejanns  and  his 
Catiline.     Nowhere  is  the  contrast  between  him  and  Shake- 


138      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

speare  more  striking.  Jonson  brought  to  bear  all  his  learn- 
ing, aimed  at  scrupulous  fidelity  to  historical  fact,  sought 
to  portray  Romans  and  Roman  life  as  they  actually  had 
been  ;  he  carefully  avoided  mingling  comedy  with  tragedy. 
Shakespeare,  on  the  other  hand,  was  very  little  concerned 
about  historical  accuracy,  exercised  a  large  freedom  in 
portraying  men  simply  as  men,  and  had  no  hesitation  in 
mingling  the  humorous  and  the  tragic  as  they  are  mingled 
in  actual  life.  No  plays  seem  to  have  been  more  popu- 
lar on  the  stage  than  Jonson's.  This  appears  somewhat 
strange  considering  the  romantic  tendencies  of  the  age ; 
but  it  is  due  perhaps  in  part  to  Jonson's  personal  popu- 
larity and  possibly  in  still  greater  measure  to  the  natural- 
ness of  the  characters  and  the  skilful  construction  of  the 
plots.  It  is  certainly  not  due  to  their  poetic  charm,  for  in 
Jonson's  best  acting  plays  there  is  remarkably  little  poetry. 
Yet  Jonson  was  a  genuine  poet.  This  is  shown  in  some 
of  his  minor  plays,  and  it  is  shown  still  more  emphatically 
Jonson's  ^^  his  Masques.  The  masque  was  a  sort  of  lyr- 
Masques  JQg^i  g^j-j^j  mythological  dramatic  production,  usually 
presented  with  the  accompaniment  of  gorgeous  costume 
and  of  elaborate  scenery  and  stage  machinery.  Jonson 
wrote  many  masques  of  much  lyrical  beauty ;  and  his 
work  in  this  kind  is  the  best  in  English  literature  with 
the  single  exception  of  Milton's  Comus,  written  three  years 
before  Jonson's  death. 

Jonson  wrote  some  noble  poetry  entirely  outside  of 
dramatic  lines.  The  most  of  this  was  gathered  up  in  two 
volumes  known  as  The  Forest  and  Underwoods.  The  best 
Jonson's  of  it  is  in  the  form  of  personal  odes  and  of  light 
Poems  and   graceful   lyric    pieces.     The    former  show 

Jonson  as  a  man  of  fine  moral  dignity,  of  religious  nature, 
of  humble  and  reverent  spirit,  of  manly  temper.  The 
latter  are  so  surprisingly  beautiful  and  delicate  that  it 
seems  hard  at  first  thought  to  believe  that  they  could  have 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE   (1579-1625)  139 

been  written  by  the  same  strong  hand  that  wrote  the  plays. 
Perhaps  the  best  known  of  his  lighter  lyrics  is  that  begin- 
ning : 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes. 

Jonson  was  a  prose-writer  also,  his  most  important  work 
bearing  the  title  of  Tiuibcr,  or  Discoveries  made  upon 
Men  and  Matter.  It  consists  of  notes,  thoughts,  jonson's 
aphorisms,  and  short  essays,  and  expresses  his  ^''°®^ 
ideas  \\\-)on  subjects  ethical,  rhetorical,  critical,  literary, 
artistic,  educational,  political,  and  historical.  His  style  is 
more  plain  and  direct  than  most  written  in  his  age,  and 
shows  more  approach  toward  the  method  of  modern 
prose. 

The  names  of  Francis  Beaumont  and  John  Fletcher  are 
inseparably  linked  together  in  literary  history.  Fifty- 
two  plays  are  attributed  to  them,  and  most  of  Beaumont 
these  were  the  result  of  their  joint  authorship,  and  Fletcher 
It  is  the  common  tradition  that  Fletcher's  genius  was  the 
more  creative  and  Beaumont's  the  more  critical.  However 
this  may  be,  the  work  of  the  two  is  thoroughly  welded  to- 
gether and  bears  a  unique  stamp.  It  is  as  typically  romantic 
as  Jonson's  is  typically  classical.  As  a  whole,  it  is  poet- 
ical, as  romantic  drama  ought  to  be.  The  plays  were  very 
popular  upon  the  stage,  and  this  popularity  was  justified  by 
their  admirable  construction  and  excellent  acting  qualities. 
On  the  moral  side  there  is  a  decided  lowering  of  tone,  and 
some  of  the  plays  are  extremely  coarse.  Many  of  the  charac- 
ters are  natural  and  lifelike,  and  fill  the  stage  with  bright 
and  joyous  figures.  Sometimes,  however,  there  is  exaggera- 
tion, distortion,  and  vulgarity  in  the  treatment  of  character. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  know  little  or  nothing  of  those 
deeper  laws  of  life  of  which  Shakespeare  was  tlie  great 
portrayer  and  revealer.  They  have  little  of  that  elevation 
and  dignity  which  marks  the  best  work  of  Jonson.  Some 
of  their  finest  sentiments  are  put  int(j  the   mouths  of  their 


I40         RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

worst  villains,  and  life  seems  ordered  more  by  the  dictates 
of  romantic  fancy  than  by  its  own  inevitable  laws.  In 
spite  of  all  limitations,  however,  their  work  has  an  un- 
doubted and  continuing  fascination.  It  represents  drama 
in  its  decline  from  the  moral  and  poetic  and  artistic  height 
of  Shakespeare  ;  but  it  still  belongs  to  the  great  age,  before 
the  drama  had  fallen  into  decay. 

The  best  work  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  was  in  ro- 
mantic comedy,  lying  between  their  tragic  work  on  the 
one  side  and  their  broad  farcical  comedy  on  the  other. 
No  single  play  is  more  representative  than  PJiil- 
aster,  which  might  almost  be  called  a  tragi- 
comedy. It  deals  with  the  love  of  Philaster  for  the  Princess 
Arethusa  and  his  groundless  jealousy  of  the  page  Bellario. 
Bellario  finally  turns  out  to  be  the  beautiful  and  noble  lady 
Euphrasia,  who,  because  of  her  love  for  Philaster,  has  long 
followed  him  in  the  disguise  of  a  page.  The  play  ends 
with  the  marriage  of  Philaster  and  Arethusa  and  with  the 
elevation  of  Philaster  to  the  kingship,  of  which  he  is  the 
rightful  heir.  There  are  some  strong  scenes  and  some 
vigorous  characters.  The  plot  is  in  the  main  rapid  and 
interesting.  The  situations  are  dramatic  and  varied,  rang- 
ing from  the  purely  romantic  to  the  vividly  realistic.  The 
character  of  Euphrasia  is  a  charming  creation  —  romantic, 
beautiful,  and  affecting.  Her  pathetic  situation  at  the 
close,  after  she  has  been  the  means  of  bringing  the  lovers 
together,  adds  the  touch  of  tragedy  which  deepens  the 
effect  of  the  whole  drama. 

The  dramatic  product  of  the  Age  of  Shakespeare  must 
have  been  immense.  We  know  that  many  plays  —  prob- 
MinorDra-  ^^^Y  ^^^  majority —  have  been  lost ;  and  yet  we 
maticcon-      still  retain  the  names  and  the  works — in  some 

temporaries  ,        .  .  1  1  •  i 

of  Shake-  cases  volummous  —  of  more  than  thirty  drama- 
speare  tists.     Many  of  these  are  to  us  mere  shadows, 

except  for  their  works  ;  and  in  many  cases  the  authorship 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579  1625)  141 

of  the  plays  is  a  matter  of  great  uncertainty.  The  briefest 
possible  mention  of  a  few  of  the  most  prominent  among 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  contemporaries  must  suffice  for  the 
present  purpose. 

George  Chapman  is  best  known  to  posterity  as  the 
translator  of  Homer.  His  work  in  this  direction  has  been 
highly  esteemed  down  to  our  own  day,  and  has  even  been 
called,  by  Saintsbury,  "the  best  translation  into  English 
verse  of  any  classic,  ancient  or  modern,  ex-  George 
cept  FitzGerald's  Omar  K/iayyam."  In  original  Chapman 
poetry  he  displays  considerable  power,  but  falls  under 
the  charge  of  unnaturalness  and  obscurity.  His  dramatic 
works  make  the  same  impression  of  great  though  unregu- 
lated power.  Many  of  them  are  of  the  history  or  chronicle 
type,  and  deal  with  almost  contemporary  French  history. 
His  tragic  efforts  have  something  of  Marlowe's  bombastic 
rant,  without  Marlowe's  excuse.  In  comedy  he  is  among 
the  best  of  the  minor  dramatists. 

John  Marston  was  a  satirical  poet,  and  the  strain  of 
bitter  and  gloomy  sarcasm  runs  through  most  of  his  dramas. 
His  most  typical  work  is  The  Malcontent,  a  j^jj^ 
satirical  play  of  the  same  general  type  as  Marston 
Moliere's  Misant/irof>e.  Like  Chapman,  he  seems  to  imi- 
tate Marlowe's  thunder  without  Marlowe's  power.  The 
practice  of  collaboration  among  the  Elizabethan  dramatists 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  Jonson,  Chapman,  and 
Marston  united  in  the  production  of  Rastzvard  Ho,  a  play 
which  seems  to  have  given  offence  to  King  James  because 
of  a  slur  on  the  Scots. 

The  height  of  Shakespeare  is  reached  by  many  ascents, 
and    Thomas  Dckker  approaches  him  on  the  side  of  liis 
poetry,    his    humor,    and    his    tenderness.     We  Thomas 
know  jjractically  nothing  of  Oekker  from  any  ex-  ^^^^^^ 
tcrnal  evidence  ;  but   from    his   certain  work   we  can  shape 
a  fairly  distinct  concepticju  of    iiis  character  and  genius. 


142       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

His  plays  are  gay,  sweet,  pathetic,  and  sometimes  touched 
with  charming  fancy  —  as  in  his  Old  Fortimatits,  dealing 
with  the  familiar  fairy-tale  of  the- wishing-Cap  and  the  in- 
exhaustible purse.     His  blank. verse  is  often  bealutiful,  his 
dramatic  lyrics  are  worthy  to  be  mentioned  with  those  of 
\  Shakespeare  and  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  what  is 
i  perhaps  his  greatest  praise,  no'  minor  dramatist  of  the  age 
,  surpasses  him  in  the  treatment  of  women. 

Thomas  Heywood  was  called  by  Charles  Lamb  "  a  prose 
Shakespeare,"  by  which  phrase  Lamb  seems  to  have  meant, 
Thomas  not  that  Heywood  was  a  master  of  poetic  and 

Heywood  imaginative  prose,  but  that  lie  was  able  to  treat 
well  in  a  prosaic  fashion  those  more  ordinary  and  prosaic 
aspects  of  life  which  Shakespeare  could  clothe  with  the 
charm  of  poetic  fancy.  Thus  understood,  the  characteriza- 
tion is  just,  and  constitutes  no  mean  praise.  Heywood's 
most  famous  and  typical  work  is  A  Woman  Killed  with 
Kindness.  That  he  was  an  exceedingly  voluminous  writer 
is  shown  by  his  claim  to  have  had  "  a  whole  hand  or  a 
main  finger  in  two  hundred  and  twenty  plays."  He  is  not 
to  be  confounded  with  John  Heywood,  the  pre-Elizabethan 
writer  of  interludes. 

Thomas  Middleton  was  much  more  poetical  and  had  a 
wider  range  of  dramatic  ability.  Most  of  his  plays  are 
comedies  of  contemporary  manners  and  hold  a  fair  rank 
Thomas  with  the    many  other  plays  of  this  type.      The 

Middleton  Spanish  Gypsy  is  a  romantic  comedy  of  much 
finer  quality.  In  tragedy  Middleton  was  inclined  toward 
the  drama  of  blood  and  violence.  His  two  masterpieces  are 
Women  Beware  Women  and  TJie  Cha?igeling,  in  which 
gloomy  horror  is  not  much  relieved  by  crude  and  farcical 
comedy.  The  Witch  is  best  known  because  of  its  interest- 
ing association  with  Shakespeare's  Macbeth. 

The  last  and  in  some  respects  the  greatest  of  the  con- 
temporaries of  Shakespeare  who  can  be  dealt  with  here 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  143 

is  John   Webster.      Shakespeare  aside,   he  is   unmatched 
for  pure   poetry   in  drama  except  by  Marlowe. 

^,        ,  ^     •       1  ...         -1  1        ^  John  Webster 

No  less  eminent  is  his  terrible  tragic  power; 
and  in  the  creation  of  splendid  types  of  character  that  yet 
are  thoroughly  human,  Shakespeare  alone  is  his  superior. 
Webster's  dramas  are  not  pleasant  reading  —  they  are  too 
ghastly,  too  horrible,  too  full  of  death  and  blood  ;  they 
have  too  little  of  naturalness  and  of  orderly  arrangement 
in  the  plot.  Rut  they  are  vivid,  impressive,  and  tremen- 
dously forcible  ;  and  they  display  a  poetic  imagination  that 
ranges  from  pathetic  to  sublime.  His  two  greatest  plays 
are  Vittoria  Coromboua,  or  The  White  Devil,  and  The 
Duchess  of  Malfi.  Both  deal  with  Italian  themes ;  and 
those  who  are  disposed  to  criticise  Webster  too  severely  for 
the  horrors  which  he  serves  up  so  freely  should  at  least 
remember  that  those  horrors  find  large  justification  in  the 
facts  of  Italian  life  and  history  during  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. 

Some  of  the  dramatic  work  just  described  was  written 
during  the  last  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  which  ended  in 
1603  ;  but  most  of  it  was  produced  during  the  reign  of 
James  I,  which  continued  until  1625.  The  Jacobean 
poetry  written  between  these  two  dates  has  been  Poetry 
already  in  part  anticipated  ;  for  the  Elizabethan  lyric  po- 
etry still  continued  with  only  gradual  change  of  quality, 
and  the  later  works  of  the  historical  poets,  Daniel  and 
Drayton,  belong  to  this  later  period.  Reminding  our- 
selves of  this  overlapping  of  periods,  which  is  one  of  the 
marked  features  of  this  crowded  age,  we  may  take  up  the 
thread  of  poetic  development.  Some  of  the  best  poetry 
of  the  time  was  written  by  the  dramatists,  and  has  already 
been  mentioned  or  alluded  to.  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  of 
course,  stand  in  the  first  rank.  Jonson's  lyric  poems  add 
much  to  the  poetic  total  ;  and  Chapman's  original  and 
traiiblatcd  work  is  of  real  importance.     We  may   also  re- 


144      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

mind  ourselves  again  of  the  exquisite  songs  of  such  dram- 
atists as  Shakespeare,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  Dekker. 
Perhaps  the  first  name  that  ought  to  be  mentioned  after 
these  is  that  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  —  a  name  unmatched 
Sir  Walter  ^'^^  romautic  charm  except  by  that  of  Sir  PhiHp 
Raleigh  Sidney.     Raleigh  was  a  true  Elizabethan  ;  and 

many  of  his  achievements  and  some  of  his  literary  produc- 
tions belong  to  the  earlier  reign.  Nevertheless,  although 
he  was  over  fifty  years  of  age  when  Elizabeth  died,  and 
although  his  name  is  forever  associated  with  hers,  as  a 
literary  figure  he  belongs  chiefly  to  the  reign  of  James.  It 
can  hardly  be  doubted  that  he  had  sufficient  genius  to  have 
given  him  a  place  among  the  greatest  poets  of  the  age  — 
to  have  ranked  him  even  beside  his  friend  Spenser  ;  but 
his  was  a  life  chiefly  devoted  to  action  and  adventure, 
and  literature  claimed  him  mainly  in  those  days  which  he 
spent  in  disgrace  and  imprisonment.  The  few  lyrics  that 
are  certainly  his  show  a  mingling  of  lofty  and  dignified 
emotion  with  pure  lyric  music.  Several  of  these  connect 
themselves  pretty  clearly  with  his  well-known  reverses  of 
fortune,  and  tradition  tells  us  that  some  of  his  verses 
were  written  on  the  night  before  he  was  beheaded. 
The  following  lines  are  said  to  have  been  found  in  his 
Bible  : 

Even  such  is  time,  that  takes  in  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 
And  pays  us  but  with  earth  and  dust ; 
Who,  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 
Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days  ; 
But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust, 
My  God  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust ! 

A  very  different  name  is  that  of  John  Donne,  famous 
preacher,  theologian,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  metaphysical 
poet.     Donne  is  regarded  by  most  competent  authorities 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  145 

as  a  really  great  poet;  but  his  poetry  can  hardly  be  said 
to  make  a  very  strong  appeal  to  the  ordinary  reader.  It 
is  beyond  question,  however,  that  it   did   exert 

r    1     •     ,T  111  c    John  Donne 

a  poweriul  intiuence  upon  the  development  of 
English  poetry.  While  as  a  preacher  Donne  is  associated 
with  the  religious  spirit  of  the  age,  as  a  poet  he  is  a  child 
of  the  Renaissance.  He  is  so  through  his  earlier  passion- 
ate love  poetry ;  he  is  so,  too,  in  the  pathetic  meditation  on 
death  which  grows  out  of  an  intense  love  for  life ;  he  is  so 
to  some  extent  in  his  poetic  form.  His  later  productions 
were  more  religious  and  philosophical.  As  a  whole,  his 
poetry  is  charged  with  intense  thought  and  with  intense 
feeling.  The  description  of  him  as  a  "  metaphysical  poet  " 
implies  an  excessive  intellectual  ingenuity,  which  makes 
his  poetic  images  at  times  merely  fantastic,  and  which  is 
not  conducive  to  direct,  sincere,  and  simple  poetic  ex- 
pression. Largely  through  his  influence,  so-called  "  con- 
ceits," clever  and  ingenious  tricks  of  language,  became  a 
fashion  with  later  poets.  One  of  the  less  objectionable  of 
his  own  appears  in  the  following  lines: 

Our  two  souls  therefore,  which  are  one, 
Though  I  must  go,  endure  not  yet 
A  breacli,  but  an  expansion, 
Like  gold  to  airy  thinness  beat. 

This,  though  fanciful,  is  not  unpuctical.  Immediately 
afterward,  however,  he  compares  the  two  souls  to  a  pair 
of  compasses.  What  redeems  Donne's  poetry  and  what 
probably  makes  it  most  esteemed  by  his  admirers,  is  the 
occasional  splendid  flash  of  genuine  poetic  imagination, 
lighting  up  the  obscurity  of  his  verse  as  with  a  sudden 
glare  of  lightning. 

One  of   the   most   genuine   and   most    charming   poets 
of   the  early    seventeenth  century  was  William  wiuiam 
Browne.      His  principal  work  is  Brit  a  fluid's  J\is-  Browne 
torali.      Besides  this,  he   wrcjte    'lltf   S/np/tird's   Pif^f,   The 


146      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

Inner  Temple  Masque,  and  a  varied  collection  of  minor 
poems.  His  poetry  has  much  of  the  Elizabethan  and 
Renaissance  spirit.  His  conceptions  are  classical,  he  is 
possessed  by  the  love  of  beauty,  and  his  verse  is  often 
finely  musical.  In  all  this,  he  was  an  acknowledged  disci- 
ple of  Spenser,  and  gives  us  occasion  to  note  that  Spen- 
ser's influence  united  with  that  of  Ben  Jonson  and  Donne 
to  determine  the  character  of  English  poetry  during  this 
generation  and  afterward.  What  is  new  and  original  in 
Browne  is  his  poetical  treatment  of  nature.  He  writes  of 
it  in  the  prevailing  classical  fashion,  and  his  poetry  is  full 
of  the  nymphs  and  spirits  of  wood  and  water  ;  but  he  knew 
nature  directly,  and  his  descriptions  are  often  full  of  fresh- 
ness and  naturalness  as  well  as  of  poetic  charm.  He  has 
a  true  artistic  instinct  for  music  and  for  color.  He  com- 
bines in  an  interesting  way  the  high  moral  tone  of  Puri- 
tanism with  Renaissance  delight  in  beauty. 

A  poet  associated  with  Browne  through  intimate  per- 
sonal friendship  and  through  some  similarity  in  poetic  work 
George  IS  Gcorge  ^Wither.     They  were  of  nearly  equal 

Wither  a^ge  .  ]3ut  Withcr's  life  was  the  longer  by  nearly 

a  quarter  of  a  century.  Although  he  lived  well  through 
the  age  of  Milton,  most  of  his  best  poetry  was  written  in 
his  early  life,  the  chief  exception  being  a  collection  of 
sacred  songs  entitled  Hallelujah.  The  work  that  connects 
him  most  closely  with  Browne  is  his  SJiepJierd's  Hunting 
and  his  collaboration  with  Browne  in  the  latter's  Shepherd's 
Pipe.  His  poetical  work  was  doubtless  the  better  for 
Browne's  influence.  Wither's  nature  was  the  sterner  of 
the  two,  as  is  illustrated  by  his  satire  entitled  Abuses  Stript 
and  Whipt  and  by  his  reUgious  poetry.  He  became  more 
and  more  of  a  Puritan,  and  in  latter  life  expressed  repent- 
ance for  his  often  beautiful  and  always  innocent  earlier 
poetry.  Doubtless  his  love  for  beauty,  in  nature,  in 
woman,  in  poetry,  and  in  life,  seemed  to  him  a  frivolous 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  147 

and  even  sinful  indulgence.     The  names  of  the  two  poetic 
friends  are  thus  linked  together  in  an  old  couplet : 

And  long  may  England's  Thespian  springs  be  known 
By  lovely  Wither  and  by  bonny  Browne. 

The  Scotch  poetry  of  the  period  is  well  represented  by 
William  Drummond,  friend  and  follower  of  Ben  Jonson. 
From  his  beautiful  and  romantic  home  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  Esk,  near  Edinburgh,  he  is  always  known  Drummond  of 
as  Drummond  of  Hawthorndcn.  Jonson  visited  Hawthomden 
him  there  in  1619  ;  and  from  the  visit  arose  Drummond's 
famous  Conversations  with  Ben  Jonson,  which  contained 
some  rather  indiscreet  passages.  His  poetry  as  a  whole 
is  that  of  a  skilful  writer  rather  than  that  of  the  born  poet. 
Yet  it  is  not  altogether  without  passion  and  dcjith.  His  love 
poetry  is  inspired  by  sorrow  over  the  death  of  his  betrothed 
bride  ;  and  his  sacred  poetry  is  the  outcome  of  a  serious  relig- 
ious nature.  His  elegies  and  pastorals  are  of  less  poetic 
value.  Probably  his  best  formal  work  is  in  his  sonnets, 
though  he  had  an  exxellent  gift  for  pure  lyric  expression. 

Turning  from  Jacobean  poetry  to  Jacobean  prose,  we 
come  at  once  upon  one  of  the  most  striking  and  impor- 
tant figures  of  the  age.  The  generation  to  which  Shake- 
speare belonged  produced  a  variety  of  splendid  types  in 
various  departments  of  literature  —  types  like  Sidney,  Ra- 
leigh, Spenser,  Marlowe,  and  Shakespeare  himself.  Its 
type  of  pure  and  cold  intelligence  is  Francis  prands 
Hacon,  Lord  High  Chancellor,  Baron  Verulam,  Ba^on 
Viscount  St.  Albans,  greatest  philosopher  and  greatest 
scientist  of  his  age.  With  the  lawyer,  the  judge,  the 
statesman,  the  noble,  the  scholar,  and  the  investigator,  we 
have  not  here  much  to  do;  for  these  characters  of  the 
man  have  only  an  indirect  association  with  literature. 
Nor  arc  we  mcjre  concerned  with  the  controversy  concern- 
ing his  personal  rhnrnrtcr.     Pope  called  him  "  the  wisest, 


148      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

brightest,  meanest  of  mankind."  The  epigram  is  both  ex- 
aggerated and  uncharitable,  but  it  suggests  something  of 
the  astonishing  contrasts  to  be  found  in  Bacon's  nature. 
He  was  a  son  of  the  Renaissance,  in  some  of  his  best 
qualities  as  in  some  of  his  worst.  He  had  its  largeness 
and  its  eagerness  of  intelligence,  its  love  of  learning,  its 
freedom  of  spirit,  though  he  perhaps  lacked  something 
of  its  generous  enthusiasm.  His  faults  were  those  of  too 
much  intellect  and  too  little  heart. 

The  larger  part  of  Bacon's  life  belongs  to  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth  ;  but  his  greatest  achievements,  both  literary  and 
other,  fall  within  the  reign  of  James  I.  His  philosophical 
Bacon's  and  scientific  works  —  those  upon  which  he  ex- 

works  pected  his  fame  chiefly  to  rest  —  were  written  in 

Latin,  and  it  is  only  incidentally  that  he  becomes  a  writer 
of  English  prose.  Indeed,  the  limitations  of  Bacon's  purely 
literary  instinct  are  well  shown  by  his  opinion  that  English 
was  not  a  safe  medium  through  which  to  hand  down  a 
great  work  to  posterity.  With  magnificent  intellectual 
audacity,  he  declared,  "  I  have  taken  all  knowledge  to  be 
my  province  "  ;  and  his  literary  plan  was  commensurate 
with  this  declaration.  He  projected  a  great  work  in 
Latin  which  was  to  be  called  the  histauratio  Magna 
Scientiarum,  and  was  to  cover  the  whole  field  of  natural 
philosophy.  Only  the  second  part  of  this,  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  was  ever  completed.  As  an  introduction  to  the 
whole,  he  wrote  in  English  the  famous  Advancement  of 
Learning,  which  he  afterward  translated  into  Latin.  His 
other  important  English  works  are  his  Essays,  his  History 
of  Henry  VH,  and  his  New  Atlantis,  the  last  an  uncom- 
pleted philosophical  romance  of  the  same  general  type  as 
More's  Utopia.  It  is  one  of  the  ironies  of  literary  history 
that  the  English  language  which  Bacon  despised  should 
be  the  medium  through  which  he  is  most  generally  known 
to  posterity  and  through  which  he  has  a  name  in  litera- 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  149 

ture  as  a  great  master  of  prose  style.  "  These  modern 
languages,"  he  declared,  "will  at  one  time  or  the  other 
play  the  bankrupt  with  books."  Yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  his 
English  writings,  and  more  especially  of  his  Essays,  that 
he  is  accounted  the  central  figure  in  the  prose  literature 
of  his  age.  When  we  consider  this  fact,  we  may  under- 
stand that  decided  limitations  must  be  set  to  the  greatness 
of  his  purely  literary  fame.  Take  him  for  all  in  all,  he  is 
one  of  the  greatest  figures  in  history.  In  English  litera- 
ture, great  as  he  is,  he  is  less  great  than  he  has  commonly 
been  accounted. 

The  Essays,  as  to  their  matter,  might  be  called  a  su- 
preme product  of  purely  worldly  wisdom.  They  are  close- 
packed  with  thought,  and  it  is  the  thought  of  Bacon's 
a  man  who  has  pondered  deeply  on  men  and  Assays 
things  and  who  has  had  wide  experience  of  human  life; 
but  Bacon's  words  are  the  words  of  prudence  and  sagacity 
rather  than  of  high  principle  or  of  a  fine  idealism.  Little 
of  the  loftier,  more  religious,  more  poetic  side  of  human 
nature  is  to  be  found  in  them,  but  much  of  keen  insight 
and  of  shrewd  advice.  The  style  fits  the  substance.  It  is 
learned,  but  it  is  not  abstruse  or  involved.  It  lacks  music, 
but  it  has  directness,  compactness,  and  pith.  It  is  intellec- 
tual and  frequently  heavy  with  weight  of  thought,  but  it 
is  clear  and  forcible.  Sometimes  it  is  simple  and  almost 
plain;  sometimes  it  is  ornate  and  figurative;  but  even  its 
imaginative  quality  has  a  curious  air  of  intellectual  inge- 
nuity, seems  born  of  reason  rather  than  of  emotion.  Latin 
quotation  is  frequent  ;  it  is  as  though,  even  here,  he  hesi- 
tated to  commit  himself  fully  to  the  use  of  his  mother 
tongue.  Nowhere  is  it  truer  that  the  style  is  the  man  ; 
for  Bacon  has  here  exjjrcssed  himself  with  all  the  natu- 
ralness and  sincerity  of  which  his  nature  was  cajjable. 
Everywhere  we  see  the  wf)rking  of  his  "  chemical  brain  "  ; 
everywhere    we    feel    the    lack    of    any     passion    but    the 


150      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

passion  of  the  intellect.     It  is  thus  that   he    writes  "  Of 

Studies  "  : 

Studies  serve  for  Delight,  for  Ornament,  and  for  Ability.  Their 
Chiefe  Use  for  Delight,  is  in  Privatenesse  and  Retiring ;  For  Ornament, 
is  in  Discourse;  And  for  Ability,  is  in  the  Judgement  and  Disposition  of 
Businesse.  .  .  .  To  spend  too  much  Time  in  6'///(^/>j,  is  Sloth  ;  To  use 
them  too  much  for  Ornament,  is  Affectation ;  To  make  Judgement 
wholly  by  their  Rules  is  the  Humour  of  a  Scholler.  .  .  .  Crafty  Men 
Contemne  Studies]  Simple  Men  Admire  them;  And  Wise  Men  Use 
them.  .  .  .  Some  Bookes  are  to  be  Tasted,  Others  to  be  Swallowed, 
and  Some  Few  to  be  Chewed  and  Digested ;  that  is,  some  Bookes  are 
to  be  read  onely  in  Parts ;  Others  to  be  read  but  not  Curiously ;  And 
some  Few  to  be  read  wholly,  and  with  Diligence  and  Attention.  .  .  . 
Reading  maketh  a  Full  Man ;  Conference  a  Ready  Man ;  And  Writing 
an  Exact  Man.  And  therefore.  If  a  Man  Write  little,  he  had  need 
have  a  Great  memory ;  If  he  Conferre  little,  he  had  need  have  a 
Present  Wit ;  And  if  he  Reade  little,  he  had  need  have  much  Cun- 
ning, to  seeme  to  know  that  he  doth  not.  Histories  make  Men  Wise  ; 
Poets  Witty  ;  The  Mathemaiicks  Subtill ;  Naturall  Philosophy  deepe  ; 
MorallQx2L\^\  Logick  and  Rhetorick  Able  to  Contend.  Abeunt  sttidia 
in  Mores. 

In  addition  to  Bacon  there  is  a  considerable  group  of 
minor  prose-writers,  only  the  most  prominent  of  whom 
can  be  here  mentioned.  Ben  Jonson's  work  in  prose  has 
already  been  considered.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
falls  to  be  mentioned  here  chiefly  by  virtue  of 
his  History  of  the  World.  It  is  not  great  history ;  it  is 
not  great  literature ;  as  a  whole,  it  is  not  written  in  a  great 
style ;  but  it  places  Raleigh  among  the  notable  prose- 
writers  of  his  time  because  of  occasional  brief  passages 
which  display  the  touch  of  a  master.  It  is  these,  together 
with  similar  happy  things  in  his  poetry,  which  make  us 
regret  that  Raleigh's  life  could  not  have  been  given  to 
literature.  One  of  his  finest  bursts  of  eloquence  occurs 
in  the  concluding  passage  of  the  History.  It  has  not  been 
often  surpassed  by  any  writer  of  English  prose. 

O  eloquent,  just,  and  mighty  Death  !  whom  none  could  advise, 
thou   hast  persuaded ;    what  none  hath  dared,  thou  hast  done ;    and 


THE  AGE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  (1579-1625)  151 

whom  all  the  world  hath  flattered,  thou  only  hast  cast  out  of  the 
world  and  despised  ;  thou  hast  drawn  together  all  the  far-stretched 
greatness,  all  the  pride,  cruelty,  and  ambition  of  man,  and  covered  it 
all  over  with  these  two  narrow  words  —  Hie  jacetl 

An  interesting  type  of  prose  literature  is  represented 
by  Sir  Thomas  Overbury's  Characters,  written,  in  fact,  by 
several   hands.     The   type   was   borrowed   from  „    u     , 

'  '  Overbury  s 

Greek  Hterature,  but  had  a  natural  association  Characters 
with  the  portrayal  of  "  humours  "  in  the  comedy  of  Hen 
Jonson  and  his  contemporaries.  The  *'  Character"  is  a  short 
sketch  of  a  familiar  type  of  life  and  manners,  and  is  usu- 
ally analytic,  didactic,  and  ethical  in  purpose.  It  is  said 
that  over  two  hundred  publications  of  the  kind  were  put 
forth  during  the  seventeenth  century.  They  are  an  in- 
teresting anticipation  of  some  aspects  of  the  modern 
novel.  Another  typical  book  is  Robert  Burton's  Anatoviy 
of  Melancholy.  It  is  typical  in  its  vast  learn-  Burton's 
ing ;  for  learning  was  now  the  chief  remain-  Anatomy 
ing  evidence  of  the  Renaissance  influence  in  literature. 
It  is  typical  also  in  its  serious  and  exhaustive  treatment 
of  "  melancholy  "  ;  for  this  was  a  melancholy  generation. 
Men  saw  the  high  hopes  and  splendid  enthusiasms  of 
the  early  Renaissance  fading  away ;  learning  seemed 
the  chief  good  still  left,  and  even  "much  study"  was  "a 
weariness  of  the  flesh." 

We  must  class  among  the  minor  prose-writers  that  re- 
markable group  of  men  who  in  161 1,  at  tiie  order  of 
King  James,  produced  the  Authorized  Version  Authorized 
of  the  Bible.  Nevertheless,  they  gave  shape  Version 
to  the  most  jjcrfect  of  all  the  great  monuments  of  Eng- 
lish prose.  At  the  basis  of  their  success  lay  their  mag- 
nificent model,  in  its  various  forms  of  Hebrew,  Greek,  and 
Latin.  Then  they  allowed  themselves  to  feel  the  full  in- 
fluence of  the  splendid  ICngli.sh  translations  of  VVyclif, 
Tyndale,  and  later  revisers.      Lastly,  they  lived   in   an   age 


152      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

of  stately  and  musical  prose,  remote  enough  from  our  time 
to  have  something  of  archaic  flavor,  near  enough  to  be  in 
all  essentials  our  own  modern  speech.  This  wonderful 
book  largely  created  the  conditions  out  of  which  Puritan- 
ism arose  in  the  next  generation ;  it  entered  into  the  life  of 
the  English  race,  to  mold  their  literature  as  well  as  their 
religious  thought ;  it  is  still  alive  after  three  centuries,  more 
powerful  in  literary  influence  than  any  other  book,  because 
nearer  to  the  hearts  of  the  people. 


Interior  of  Swan  Theater 

After  a  sketch  made  in  1596 


^Ohyrv     c///CU^Cniy 


CHAITl-.R    IX 

THE   AGE  OF  MILTOX    (1625-1660) 

We  have  observed  during  the  reigu  of  James  I  the  de- 
cline of  those  forces  and  influences  which  grew  out  of  the 
Renaissance,  and  have  seen  how  the  temper  of  the  age  was 
affected  by  the  growing  intellectuality  and  the  Decline  of 
growing  melancholy.  Men  felt  that  they  had  Renaissance 
dreamed  a  glorious  dream  and  had  at  length  seen  it  "  die 
away,  and  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day."  The 
power  and  the  glory  were  not  yet  quite  gone;  for  they 
were  still  to  touch  the  lighter  poetry  of  the  coming  gener- 
ation with  an  afterglow  of  beauty  and  to  shed  their  magic 
charm  around  the  young  steps  of  Milton.  The  Renais- 
sance was  still  a  power  to  be  reckoned  with  in  English 
literature.  Nevertheless,  its  old  strength  could  never  be 
quite  renewed,  and  literature  had  need  of  something  to 
sujiplant  or  to  supplement  its  influence.  The  time  was  not 
yet  fully  rii)e  for  an  entirely  different  age  with  other  men 
and  other  manners.  Such  new  power  as  came  was  due 
to  the  quickening  and  intensifying  of  a  force  which  had 
been  long  in  existence  —  that  religious  spirit  Religious 
which  had  entered  into  I-jiglish  life  with  the  influence 
Reformation  and  which  had  never  ceased  to  exert  a  strong 
though  quiet  influence.  As  we  have  had  already  many 
occasions  to  see,  it  had  been  operative  during  the  whole  of 
the  sixteenth  century  and  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth; 
but  up  to  this  time  it  had  been  subordinate  to  the  Renais- 
sance as  a  literary  force.  It  had  .served  to  exalt  beauty 
and  to  deepen  thought  and  feeling;  it  had  enriched  poetry 
and  had  restrained  the  excesses  of  the  drama  by  a  .sense 

153 


154      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

of  moral  law ;  but  it  had  never  quite  ranked  as  the  su- 
preme guiding  impulse  to  literary  creation.  Now  it  was 
to  take  the  chief  place  and  to  be  the  dominating  influence 
in  life  and  in  literature.  The  Renaissance  influence  was 
henceforth  to  sink  into  the  place  of  secondary  importance 
until  the  time  should  come  for  its  complete  extinction. 

The  relation  between  the  Renaissance  and  the  Reforma- 
tion is  an  interesting  one.     There  had  always  been  more 
or  less  of  opposition  between  them.     The  one 

Renaissance  . 

and  Refor-  was  essentially  mtellectual,  the  other  essentially 
mation  spiritual ;  the  one  found  its  dehght  in  the  lust 

of  the  eye  and  the  pride  of  life,  while  the  other  had  set  its 
affections  on  the  things  that  are  above;  the  one  rejoiced 
in  all  human  powers  and  dreamed  of  man's  dominion  over 
the  empire  of  this  world,  while  the  other  counted  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth  but  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance 
and  looked  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations.  Yet  on  the 
whole  these  two  great  forces  had  moved  in  the  same 
direction.  At  first  they  had  worked  toward  the  common 
end  of  freedom  and  expansion  in  thought,  the  one  asserting 
liberty  of  intelligence,  the  other  asserting  liberty  of  con- 
science. Later  and  within  the  field  of  literature,  they  had 
attained  to  a  splendid  harmony  in  the  best  work  of  Spenser 
and  of  Shakespeare.  During  the  reign  of  James  I,  they 
had  drawn  apart  and  had  more  and  more  emphasized  their 
growing  differences.  Now,  during  the  Age  of  Milton,  they 
were  to  stand  in  an  attitude  of  open  mutual  hostility.  In 
the  large  nature  of  Milton  himself  there  was  a  certain 
reconcilement  of  their  conflicting  claims ;  but  even  the 
genius  of  Milton  found  it  impossible  permanently  to  main- 
tain the  double  allegiance.  This  hostility  is  accounted  for 
by  the  steady  decline  in  influence  and  aggressiveness  of 
Renaissance  forces  on  the  one  side,  and  by  the  increasing 
narrowness,  severity,  and  intolerance  of  religion  on  the 
other.     The  religious  type  now  coming  to  its  full  develop- 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  155 

ment  was  that  which  we  know  us  Puritanism  ;  and  the 
very  word  is  a  synonym  for  harshness,  austerity,  and 
sternness,  as  it  is  also  for  loftiness  of  spirit,  devotion  to 
duty,  and  purity  of  Hfe.  The  conflict  that  arose  manifested 
itself  in  fierce  religious  controversy,  in  bloody  civil  war, 
and  in  two  widely  divergent  types  of  literary  production. 
We  call  it  the  Age  of  Puritanism,  but  in  reality  the  age  was 
divided  between  the  Puritan  and  the  Cavalier,  puritanand 
In  many  respects  it  is  a  very  different  age  from  cavaUer 
that  which  immediately  preceded  it.  The  guiding  im- 
pulses of  literature  are  still  the  same  ;  but  they  have 
changed  their  relation  to  each  other  and  have  in  a  measure 
modified  their  original  character.  As  a  consequence,  the 
temper  of  life  and  of  literature  is  seriously  affected.  The 
Age  of  Shakespeare  had  been  an  age  of  joyous  and  abun- 
dant life  modified  by  serious  religious  feeling  ;  the  Age  of 
Milton  is  an  age  of  religious  austerity  mitigated  by  a  half- 
defiant  gayety.  It  is  "  merry  England "  no  longer,  but 
there  are  still  heard  some  echoes  of  the  old  laughter. 

We  have  already  seen  the  great  drama  of  the  Age  of 
Shakespeare  verging  toward  its  decline.  The  Puritan 
period  saw  its  utter   decay.     It  was   chiefly   a 

*  ■'  ■'  Later  Drama 

product  of  the  Renaissance,  and  naturally  lost 
its  power  with  the  failure  of  the  old  forces.     In  addition 
to  this,  however,  it  had  to  contend  with  the  active  hostility 
of  the  Puritan  temper.     The  Puritans  hated  "stage  plays," 
and  did  all  they  could  to  discourage  this  "  ungodly  "  form 
of   amusement.       A   considerable   number  of  dramatists, 
however,  still  continued  their  work,  and  a  considerable  body 
of  plays  was  produced.     The  two  greatest  dramatists  of 
this    later    time    arc    Philij)    Massinger    and    John    Ford 
Massinger   still    disj)lays   the    skill    of    a    good  phiiip  Mas- 
dramatic  craftsman  and  has  no  small  ability  in  ^'""'^ 
the  treatment  of  character.     There  is,  however,  a  manifest 
decrease  of  poetic  power  and  of  those  flashes  of  inspiration 


156       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

which  characterize  so  many  of  the  older  dramatists,  from 
Marlowe  to  Webster.  Massinger's  principal  work  is  a 
comedy  entitled  A  Nciv  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts.  In  it 
occurs  the  famous  character  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach. 
This  comedy  is  very  much  superior  to  any  other  of  Mas- 
singer's  plays ;  but  apart  from  it,  his  most  effective  work 
is  in  tragedy.  Ford  is  a  better  poet  than  Massinger, 
though    an   inferior    playwright.       His    Broken 

John  Ford  °  .  . 

Heart  is  typical  of  his  powers  and  of  his  defects. 
It  has  an  intensity  of  tragic  power  that  makes  it  extremely 
affecting;  but  it  is  too  horrible,  too  bloody,  and  too 
chaotic.  His  most  powerful  situations  seem  forced  and 
unnatural.  There  is  a  certain  morbidness  in  his  genius 
that  is  itself  a  symptom  of  decay.  Great  as  are  his  powers 
of  terror  and  pathos,  the  drama  in  his  hands  is  visibly 
approaching  the  end  of  its  splendid  career.  It  is  carried 
on  still  by  a  number  of  inferior  dramatists  ;  but  at  last,  in 
1648,  the  Puritans  order  the  closing  of  the  theatres,  and  the 
career  of  the  great  romantic  drama  is  run.  As  a  whole,  it 
is  probably  unequalled  by  any  other  single  body  of  work 
in  the  world's  literature. 

The  leading  men  of   this  age  poured  forth  a  flood  of 
prose  writing  in  many  kinds.     Much  of  it  was  inspired  by 

the  religious  and  poUtical  conflicts  of  the  time, 

Prosc~writcrs 

but  philosophy  and  history  were  also  well  repre- 
sented. Among  such  writings  we  are,  of  course,  chiefly 
concerned  with  those  that  have  a  literary  flavor  in  the  sub- 
stance or  in  the  style.  Apart  from  Milton,  whose  prose 
work  will  be  best  considered  in  connection  with  his  poetry, 
four  leading  writers  will  serve  to  give  us  an  idea  of  what 
was  being  accomplished, 

Jeremy  Taylor  was  one  of  the   greatest  pulpit  orators 
Jeremy  ^^^  ^^^  of  the   greatest  prose-writers    of   the 

Taylor  Seventeenth  century.      Saintsbury  characterizes 

him  as  "in  almost  all  ways  the  chief  of  English  orators  on 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTOX  (1625-1660)  157 

sacred  subjects  "  ;  and  Emerson  names  him  "  the  Shake- 
speare of  divines."  Taylor  was  not  so  much  a  great  theo- 
logian, a  great  thinker,  or  a  great  scholar,  as  he  was  a  great 
orator  and  rhetorician.  His  supreme  gift  is  that  of  imagi- 
nation, and  his  style  is  rich  with  imagery  and  picturesque 
description.  He  has  also  a  poet's  delight  in  beautiful 
things,  and  answers  to  our  ordinary  conception  of  what  is 
meant  by  a  prose  poet.  Grace,  tenderness,  persuasiveness, 
are  also  his.  Next  to  his  picturesqueness,  his  style  is 
chiefly  remarkable  for  its  music.  His  faults  are  those  of 
looseness,  discursiveness,  lack  of  simplicity,  and  lack  of 
logic.  Such  works  as  his  Holy  Living,  his  Holy  Dying, 
his  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  and  his  volume  of  sermons  en- 
titled The  Golden  Grove  become  literary  masterpieces  by 
virtue  of  his  inimitable  richness  and  beauty  of  expression. 
The  following  is  one  of  Taylor's  most  famous  and  most 
characteristic  sentences : 

For  so  have  I  seen  a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and  soaring 
upwards,  singing  as  he  rises  and  hopes  to  get  to  heaven,  and  climb 
above  the  clouds ;  but  the  poor  bird  was  beaten  back  with  the  loud 
sighings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made  irregular  and  incon- 
stant, descending  more  at  every  breath  of  the  tempest,  than  it  could 
recover  by  the  libration  and  frequent  weighing  of  his  wings :  till  the 
little  creature  was  forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till  the  storm 
was  over;  and  then  it  made  a  prosperous  Hight,  and  did  rise  and  sing, 
as  if  it  had  learned  music  and  motion  from  an  angel,  as  he  passed  some- 
times through  the  air,  about  his  ministries  here  below. 

Thomas  Fuller  was  also  a  divine,  but  one  of  very 
different  type  from  Taylor.  Among  other  works  he  wrote 
The  Holy  State,  'The  Profane  State,  and  a  Thomas 
History  of  the  Worthies  of  lingland.  The  latter  ^""" 
is  his  best  known  and  most  characteristic  production. 
Fuller  was  a  man  entirely  serious  and  reverent  in  his  main 
purpose;  but  he  had  a  unique  turn  of  mind,  and  his  style 
is  everywhere  characterized  by  a  humorous  quaintness. 
He  has   been  thought  frivolous,  but  he  is   rather  odd  and 


158      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

naive.  All  this  gives  a  decided  charm  to  his  style  for 
those  who  are  not  repelled  by  his  genial  eccentricity.  How 
natural  and  incorrigible  a  habit  of  the  man  his  quaintness 
was,  is  well  illustrated  by  the  epitaph  which  he  wrote  for 
himself,  "  Here  lies  Fuller's  earth," 

Something  of  the  same  quaintness  and  humor,  though 
quahfied  by  a  deeper  and  loftier  habit  of  thought,  is  to 
Sir  Thomas  be  fouud  in  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  a  Norwich 
Browne  physician.      His  best  known  and  most  admired 

works  are  entitled  Religio  Medici  and  Urn  Bttrial.  These 
themes  do  not  seem  very  promising  for  literature  ;  but  the 
books  contain  passages  which  no  writer  of  English  prose 
has  ever  surpassed.  Browne  was  a  man  of  remarkable 
learning,  and  his  style  is  often  heavy  with  learned  word 
and  phrase ;  but  he  had,  like  Jeremy  Taylor,  that  combi- 
nation of  poetic  imagination  and  verbal  melody  of  which 
only  the  greatest  masters  of  prose  style  are  capable. 
Taylor's  style  soars  and  sings;  Browne's  moves  with  the 
stately  and  solemn  pomp  of  a  dead  march.  Not  often  has 
English  prose  heard  a  nobler  music  than  that  of  this 
famous  sentence  from  his  Urn  Burial : 

Now  since  these  dead  bones  have  already  out-lasted  the  living  ones  of 
Methusaleh,  and,  in  a  yard  under  ground  and  thin  walls  of  clay,  out- 
worn all  the  strong  and  specious  buildings  above  it ;  and  quietly  rested 
under  the  drums  and  tramplings  of  three  conquests :  what  prince  can 
promise  such  diuturnity  unto  his  relicks,  or  might  not  gladly  say, 
Sic  ego  componi  versus  171  ossa  velim  ? 

How  different  a  figure  from  any  of  these  is  the  dear  old 

fisherman,  Izaak  Walton.     He  has  all  their  quaintness,  but 

possesses   a  sweetness   and    a  charm    that  are 

Izaak  Walton 

quite  his  own.  His  atmosphere  is  not  the  at- 
mosphere of  books,  but  that  of  the  outdoor  world  of  rural 
nature.  His  Complete  Atigler  is  one  of  the  best  known 
books  of  its  century.  Walton  takes  the  reader  with  him 
on  his  fishing  excursions,  and  makes  him  feel  his  own  love 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  159 

for  the  quiet  beauties  of  nature  and  the  charm  of  English 
rural  life.  The  clear  brook,  the  flowering  meadow,  the 
wayside  sights  and  sounds,  the  country  inn,  all  have  their 
delight  for  him  ;  and  the  mere  catching  of  fish  is  only  a 
pleasant  incident  to  these  higher  enjoyments.  In  his 
quiet  pages  "  the  drums  and  tramplings "  of  civil  war 
seem  very  far  off,  and  fierce  religious  controversies  are 
easily  forgotten.  How  different  was  his  lot  from  that  of 
John  Milton,  who  was  compelled  to  spend  many  of  his 
best  years  in  the  very  thick  of  the  political  and  religious 
conflicts  of  his  age,  and  whose  prose  writings  constantly 
echo  the  jarring  noises  of  the  great  struggle. 

Turning  from  prose  to  poetry,  our  attention  is  first 
attracted  by  the  little  group  of  singers  known  as  the 
Cavalier  Lyrists.  Their  poetic  inheritance  is  cavaiier 
from  the  lyric  poetry  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth,  ^y"'*^ 
although  the  Elizabethan  lyric  music  takes  on  in  their 
verse  a  gayety,  a  gallantry,  a  dashing  vivacity,  that  we 
feel  to  be  new  and  unique.  Their  inspiration  is  mostly 
love  for  woman  and  reckless  loyalty  to  their  king.  They 
are  genuine  poets,  although  their  poetry  is  distinctly  of 
the  lightest  and  airiest  sort.  They  have  no  sympathy 
with  the  Puritan  temper,  even  if  their  bright  spirits  are 
sometimes  touched  by  its  gloom.  Their  characteristic 
note  is  one  of  careless,  brilliant,  and  audacious  gayety. 
They  take  from  Ben  Jonson  their  lyric  ease  and  grace, 
from  Donne  their  fantastic  "quips  and  cranks." 

Thomas  Carew  is  the  earliest  of  the  numerous  and  gal- 
lant band  of  Cavalier  singers  who  dallied  with  the  beauty 
of  love  and  poetry  amid  the  horrors  of  civil  war.  Thomas 
Carew  was  a  courtier,  a  thoroughgoing  Royal-  ^«"* 
ist,  and  at  his  best  an  exquisite  poet.  It  is  he  who  makes 
the  transition  from  I-Ji/abcthan  song  to  the  typically  Cav- 
alier poetry.  What  he  is  capable  of  in  purely  lyric  verse, 
a  single  stanza  from  one  of  his  best  love  poems  may  serve 
to  show  : 


l60       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

Ask  me  no  more  where  Jove  bestows, 
When  June  is  past,  the  fading  rose, 
For  in  your  beauty's  orient  deep 
These  flowers,  as  in  their  causes,  sleep. 

Sir  John  Suckling  and  Richard  Lovelace  are  usually 
coupled  together  as  the  most  typical  of  Cavalier  poets. 
Suckling  and  They  were  alike  in  their  brilliant  and  careless 
Lovelace  livcs,  in  their  worship  of  love  and  beauty,  in 
their  devotion  to  poetry  and  to  royalty,  and  in  their 
unhappy  fates.  Suckling  was  tortured  by  the  Spanish  In- 
quisition, and  probably  committed  suicide  in  exile.  Love- 
lace died  in  poverty  and  ruin.  Both  poets  live  by  virtue 
of  a  few  matchless  songs.  Similar  as  they  are  in  many 
ways,  the  poetic  tone  of  each  is  peculiar.  Suckling  has 
an  air  of  sprightly  impudence  clothed  in  the  easy  manner 
of  a  gentleman.  One  of  his  best  known  songs  is  the 
following  : 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale  ? 
Will,  when  looking  well  can't  move  her, 

Looking  ill  prevail  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale  ? 

Why  so  dull  and  mute,  young  sinner? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute? 
Will,  when  speaking  well  can't  win  her, 

Saying  nothing  do't? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute? 

Quit,  quit,  for  shame,  this  will  not  move : 

This  cannot  take  her. 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love. 

Nothing  can  make  her: 

The  devil  take  her! 

Lovelace  has  an  equal  air  of  gallantry  and  even  more 
carelessness  of  expression,  but  he  has  the  greater  serious- 
ness and  occasionally  strikes  a  really  noble  note.  Nothing 
of  his  is  better  than  the  brief  song,  Going  to  the  Wars : 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON   (i 625-1 660)  16 1 

Tell  me  not,  sweet,  I  am  uiikind, 

That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind 

To  war  and  arms  I  fly. 

True,  a  new  mistress  now  I  chase, 

The  tirst  foe  in  the  field, 
And  with  a  stronger  faith  embrace 

A  sword,  a  horse,  a  shield. 

Vet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  you  too  shall  adore,  — 
I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much. 

Loved  I  not  honour  more. 

It  is  to  Lovelace,  too,  that  we  owe  the  beautiful  lines, 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage. 

Somewhat  apart  from  these  poets  —  a  country  parson 
and  not  a  courtier — was  Robert  Herrick.  Nevertheless, 
his  verse  represents  essentially  the  same  spirit  Robert 
as  theirs  —  the  spirit  of  more  or  less  conscious  Hemck 
reaction  and  protest  against  the  severity  and  gloom  of 
Puritanism.  There  is  no  sunnier  poetry  in  English  than 
much  of  Robert  Herrick's.  There  is  no  lyric  poetry  of 
the  lighter  kind  dealing  with  common  things  in  sweeter, 
daintier,  and  more  perfect  verse.  His  range  is  not  wide, 
his  flight  is  not  high;  but  within  his  limits,  he  has  a 
mastery  of  the  music  of  words  that  is  almost  absolute. 
His  acknowledged  poetic  master  is  Ben  Jonson,  for  whom 
he  displays  a  kind  of  quaint  idolatry.  A  vein  of  coarse- 
ness in  his  character  is  shown  by  his  epigrams,  which  are 
neither  clean  nor  witty.  All  this,  however,  he  keeps  out  of 
his  purely  lyric  work.  A  simple  and  almost  childlike  de- 
light in  the  beauty  of  nature  and  of  common  things  is  his 
best  and  most  characteristic  trait.  It  is  displayed  to  the 
full  in  the  multitude  of  charming  little  ])()cms  which  are 
grou|>ed  under  the  general  title  of  I  Itsf^ciid,  s.  This 
quality    is  all   the   more    remarkable   in   view   of    the    fact 


l62      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

that  Herrick  was  after  all  a  very  worldly  sort  of  person 
and  rather  grumbled  at  his  enforced  exile  from  the  world 
in  a  little  country  parsonage.  He  did  not  take  his  religious 
duties  too  seriously ;  and  yet  he  was  in  his  own  way  a 
sincerely  if  not  deeply  religious  man.  This  is  shown  by 
his  poems  called  Noble  Numbers,  which  deal  with  religious 
themes  in  a  genuine  and  poetical  way.  This  may  be 
illustrated  by  a  few  stanzas  from  TJie  Litany : 

In  the  hour  of  my  distress, 
When  temptations  me  oppress, 
And  when  I  my  sins  confess, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me ! 

^  ^  ^  %  ^ 

When  the  house  doth  sigh  and  weep, 
And  the  world  is  drown'd  in  sleep, 
Yet  mine  eyes  the  watch  do  keep, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me! 

When  the  passing-bell  doth  toll, 
And  the  furies  in  a  shoal 
Come  to  fright  a  parting  soul, 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  ! 
***** 
When  the  Judgment  is  reveaPd, 
And  that  openM  which  was  seal'd ; 
When  to  Thee  I  have  appeal'd. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me! 

His  sensuous  and  somewhat  pagan  nature  must  have  been 
rather  terrified  by  the  fierce  and  gloomy  rehgion  of  the 
Puritans.  He  was  incapable  either  of  their  harshness  or 
of  their  spiritual  exaltation.  Still  there  is,  even  in  his 
lighter  and  gayer  poems,  a  frequent  haunting  sense  of 
the  transitory  nature  of  all  worldly  love  and  beauty.  In  a 
charming  poem  To  the  Virgins,  he  says  : 

Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may  : 

Old  Time  is  still  a-flying; 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to-day, 

To-morrow  will  be  dying. 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON   (1625-1660)  163 

Perhaps  no  single  quotation  from  Herrick  could  give  us  a 
better  idea  of  the  man,  the  poet,  and  his  poetic  themes 
than  the  introduction  to  the  llcspcridcs : 

I  sing  of  brooks,  of  blossoms,  birds,  and  bowers, 

Of  April,  Mav,  of  June,  and  July-flowers  ; 

I  sing  of  May-poles,  hock-carts,  wassails,  wakes, 

Of  bride-grooms,  brides,  and  of  their  bridal-cakes. 

I  write  of  Youth,  of  Love  ;  —  and  have  access 

Hv  these,  to  sing  of  cleanly  wantonness; 

I  sing  of  dews,  of  rains,  and,  piece  by  piece, 

Of  balm,  of  oil,  of  spice,  and  ambergris. 

I  sing  of  times  trans-shifting  ;  and  I  write 

How  roses  first  came  red,  and  lilies  white. 

I  write  of  groves,  of  twilights,  and  I  sing 

The  court  of  Mab.  and  of  the  Fairy  King. 

I  write  of  Hell ;  I  sing,  and  ever  shall 

Of  Heaven,  —  and  hope  to  have  it  after  all. 

Very  different  in  temper  from  Herrick  are  three  poets 
of  a  distinctively  religious  character.  Their  work  is  indeed 
at  the  opposite  extreme  from  that  of  the  Cavalier  RgUgious 
poets.  As  the  latter  approach  Milton  on  the  p°«'s 
lighter  and  more  beautiful  side  of  his  poetic  genius,  so  these 
religious  poets  approach  him  on  the  loftier  and  austerer  side. 
While  they  were  not  all  Puritans  in  the  stricter  sense  of  the 
term,  they  do  as  a  group  represent  the  prevailing  Puritan 
temper. 

A  country  clergyman  of  opposite  type  from  Herrick  was 
George  I  Icrbcrt.  I  lis  deep  piety  is  manifest  in  his  work  as 
in  his  life,  and  the  man's  whole  nature  seems  to  George 
have  been  set  in  the  direction  of  holy  thought  and  Herbert 
action.  There  is  in  him  no  note  of  religious  conflict, 
except  it  be  the  conflict  against  sin  in  his  own  members. 
Indeed,  it  is  the  spirit  of  religious  peace  for  which  ho 
yearns  —  a  peace  which  the  world  of  his  day  was  certainly 
not  disposed  to  give.  Herbert  is  a  true  poet,  very  even  in 
quality,  but  seldom  inspired.     The  main  body  of  his  work 


l64      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

is  included  in  a  single  volume  called  The  Temple.  The 
influence  of  Donne  is  everywhere  apparent  in  the  fantastic 
conceits  with  which  his  poems  are  filled.  This  tendency 
appears  in  his  general  arrangement  of  the  poems  to  cor- 
respond with  the  structure  of  a  church  —  beginning  with 
the  porch  — and  with  the  succession  of  church  services  and 
festivals.  It  appears  in  the  titles  of  individual  poems  — 
such  as  The  Collar'  and  TJie  PulUy  —  and  in  separate 
poetic  fancies.  In  spite  of  this  defect,  Herbert's  poetry  is 
attractive  ;  and  his  very  conceits  not  seldom  have  a  quaint 
charm  of  their  own.  The  chief  value  of  his  poetry  lies  in 
its  reflection  of  the  deep  religious  earnestness  of  the  man  and 
of  the  spiritual  and  poetic  aspiration  of  a  consecrated  nature. 
Likewise  much  given  to  conceits  was  Richard  Crashaw, 
a  poetical  disciple  of  Herbert.  He  represents  the  passion- 
Richard  ^^^  fervor  of  the  religious  nature  rather  than  its 

Crashaw  intellectual  struggles.  His  temperament  natu- 
rally carried  him  over  to  Catholicism  ;  and  after  being 
expelled  from  Cambridge  in  1644,  he  went  to  Italy,  and 
died  there  as  canon  of  Loretto  in  1650.  As  a  poet 
Crashaw  was  very  unequal.  At  his  worst,  he  is  very  bad 
indeed.  At  his  best  —  which  is  all  too  seldom  —  he  equals 
almost  any  poet  of  his  age  save  Milton,  and  is  not  unworthy 
to  be  named  even  with  that  great  master  of  poetry.  His 
Flammg  Heart  and  Hymn  to  St.  Theresa  have  passages 
that  are  sweetly  and  nobly  musical.  Of  such  lines  as  these, 
no  poet  need  be  ashamed  : 

O  thou  undaunted  daughter  of  desire  ! 

By  thy  large  draughts  of  intellectual  day. 

By  the  full  kingdom  of  that  final  kiss. 

He  was  a  skilful  Latin  poet,  and  the  reputed  author  of 
a  really  poetical  conceit  on  the  miracle  of  Cana  which 
appears  thus  in  English  : 

The  conscious  water  saw  its  God  and  blushed. 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  165 

Crashaw's  poems  of  divine  love  form  an  interesting  con- 
trast with  a  charming  earlier  poem  entitled  Wishes  to  his 
Supposed  Mistress, 

Whoe'er  she  be. 

That  not  impossible  she 

That  shall  command  my  heart  and  me. 

All  of  them  taken  together  illustrate  the  range  of  which 
he  was  capable. 

Henry  Vaughan  was  another  disciple  of  Herbert,  even 
closer  to  his  master  than  was  Crashaw.  Vaughan  has 
been  characterized  as  a  religious  mystic.  As  a  ug^^y 
poet,  he  often  falls  below  Herbert,  and  as  often  vaughan 
rises  above  him.  He  feels  the  mysteries  of  nature,  of  the 
human  soul,  and  of  the  spiritual  world,  and  sometimes 
gives  to  these  in  his  poetry  a  finely  simple  and  musical 
expression.  When  he  ceases  to  be  merely  meditative  and 
becomes  really  inspired  by  religious  and  poetic  feeling,  he 
rises  to  the  level  of  the  best  of  English  sacred  poets.  He 
suggests  association,  too,  with  the  great  poets  of  nature  ; 
for  he  is  able  to  convey  a  sense  of  spiritual  communion 
with  the  objects  of  the  natural  world.  Such  lines  as  these 
are  typical  of  his  poetic  manner  : 

I  saw  Eternity  the  other  ni<Tht, 
Like  a  great  ring  of  pure  and  endless  light, 
All  calm,  as  it  was  bright. 

Dear,  beauteous  Death  !  the  jewel  of  the  just, 
Shining  no  where,  but  in  the  dark  ; 
What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust, 
Could  man  outlook  that  mark  ! 

Before  coming  to  Milton  it  is  necessary  to  consider  two 
poets  who  have  some  natural  association  with  each  other, 
but  who  do  not  belong  specifically  either  to  the  Abraham 
group  of  Cavalier  Lyrists  or  to  the  group  of  re-  Cowiey 
ligious  poets.      These  arc  Cowley  and  Waller.       Abraham 
Cowley  was  in  his  day  regarded  as  the  greatest  of  English 


l66      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

poets.     Seventy  years  after  his  death  in  1667,  Pope  asked, 
"  Who  now  reads  Cowley?"      A  few  there  are  who  read 
him  even   yet,  for  the  sake   of  some  really  fine   poetry, 
and  perhaps  still  more  for  the  sake  of  his  historical  posi- 
tion.     For  Cowley  is  one  of    the  links  between  the  old 
poetry  and    the  new.       He    looks   backward    toward    the 
romantic  poetry  of  the  Age  of  Shakespeare  and  toward 
the  metaphysical  poetry  of  Donne ;    he  looks  forward  to- 
ward the  coming  age  and  anticipates  in  some  measure  the 
peculiarities  of  the  so-called  classical  school.     Like  all  the 
other  poets  thus  far  mentioned  in  this  period,  he  was  a 
Royalist ;    but    this  fact  does  not  count  for  much  in  his 
poetry.     He  sometimes  approaches  the  lyric  ease  of  the 
Cavalier  poets  ;  but  he  is  often  heavy,  cumbersome,  and  in- 
volved.      In  such  work  as  his  Pitidarique  Odes,  the  style 
is  not  seldom  musical  and  often  free  even  to  excess  and 
obscurity ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  he  seems  to  have  been 
attracted   by  the    finish    and    monotony  of    the    classical 
couplet.     He  writes  of  love,  but,  as  Samuel  Johnson  said, 
like   "  a  philosophical  rhymer  who  had  only  heard  of  an- 
other sex."     He  preceded  Milton  in  the  production  of  a 
Biblical  epic,  the  Davideis,  but  his    imagination  was  not 
adequate  to  the  satisfactory  achievement  of  so  great  a  task. 
Certain  things  about  Cowley  are  decidedly  attractive.     One 
of  these  is  his  evidently  sincere  longing  for  an  honorable 
and  cultured   retirement  in  the  companionship  of    books 
and  of  the    beauties  of  nature.      This  is    expressed  in  a 
poem  called   The  Wish,  which  he  claimed  to  have  written 
at   thirteen  and  which  his  maturer   judgment  considered 
worthy  of  preservation  among  his  works.      It  is  expressed 
in  later  poems,  notably  in  his  On  Soliticde.     It  is  expressed, 
too,  in  his  prose  writings  ;  for  it  may  be  here  observed  that 
Cowley  was  one  of  the  most  notable  essayists  of  his  day, 
although  his  prose  belongs  to  his  later  life  and  will  call  for 
notice   in  the    next  period.      Another   admirable  trait  of 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  167 

Cowley  is  a  generous  disposition  to  appreciate  and  openly 
to  praise  the  virtues  and  abilities  of  other  men.  Various 
illustrations  might  be  given,  but  none  better  than  his  poem 
On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Crashaic,  which  begins  : 

Poet  and  Saint!  to  thee  alone  are  given 

Tlie  two  most  sacred  names  of  eartii  and  Heaven, 

The  hard  and  rarest  union  which  can  be 

Next  that  of  godhead  witii  liumanity. 

The  total  effect  of  Cowley's  work  is  to  leave  the  im- 
pression that  he  was  a  man  of  remarkable  but  ineffectual 
powers.  There  are  few  things  more  pathetic  than  to  be 
almost  a  great  genius. 

Edmund  Waller  is  generally  accounted  the  earliest 
writer  to  anticipate  the  classical  period  in  its  use  of  the 
heroic  couplet  and  in  its  refinement  and  neatness  t^  .  , 
of  poetic  form.  The  heroic  couplet  is  as  old  as  waiier 
Chaucer  ;  but  in  the  hands  of  Waller  and  his  successors, 
it  took  on  such  finish,  such  precision,  such  regularity,  and 
withal  such  brilliancy,  as  to  make  it  practically  the  instru- 
ment of  new  metrical  effects.  Less  uncertain  than  Cowley, 
Waller  persisted  in  the  new  fashion  until  greater  men 
came  to  reenforce  him  and  to  better  his  example.  His 
light  is  now  lost  in  theirs,  but  he  still  retains  something  of 
the  glory  that  attaches  to  the  harbinger  of  a  new  and 
successful  movement.  In  middle  life,  he  was  deemed  only 
second  to  Cowley  ;  after  Cowley's  death,  his  fame  rose  still 
higher;  and  when  he  himself  died  in  1687  at  a  great  age, 
and  in  the  full  tide  of  the  new  movement,  he  was  for  a 
brief  time  regarded  as  the  greatest  English  poet.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  been  somewhat  of  a  time-server ;  for  he  was 
in  favor  under  Charles  I,  under  Cromwell,  and  again  under 
Charles  n.  He  kecjjs  his  interest  with  posterity  chieHy 
as  the  first  English  classical  poet  before  the  Age  of  Classi- 
cism.    This  is  his  most  famous  couplet: 

The  soul's  dark  cottage,  hattered  and  drcayed, 

Lets  in  new  light  thruugh  (  hinks  tiiat  time  hath  made. 


1 68       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

It  remains  to  consider  John  Milton,  one  of  the  very 
greatest  poets  of  English  or  any  other  literature,  and  the 
man  in  whose  genius  are  gathered  up  and  intensified  all 
the  literary  powers  and  capabilities  manifested  in  his  age. 
Milton  is  a  typical    example  of    the    union  of  the    finest 

poetic  genius  with  great  intellectual  ability  and 
Genius  and      with    high    moral     character.     The     man,    the 

thinker,  and  the  poet  are  alike  preeminently 
great.  His  intellectual  depth  and  force  made  him  the 
chosen  literary  champion  of  Puritanism,  as  Oliver  Crom- 
well was  its  champion  in  the  fields  of  war  and  statecraft. 
In  pure  poetry,  also,  he  gained  a  strength,  solidity,  and 
breadth  of  thought  which  did  not,  it  is  true,  constitute  his 
poetic  genius,  but  which  gave  a  firm  foundation  upon 
which  that  genius  might  rest.  His  intellectual  powers, 
moreover,  were  trained  by  the  best  educational  discipline 
of  his  age  and  by  his  own  profound  and  long-continued 
study.  He  was  one  of  the  most  learned  poets  of  his  own 
or  of  any  other  time.  His  religious  nature  and  his  interest 
in  great  moral  questions  had  also  an  incalculable  influence 
upon  his  work.  No  poetry  is  loftier,  purer,  more  serious, 
than  his.  No  prose  writing  oftener  displays  the  nobility 
of  a  lofty  spirit  or  enthusiasm  for  a  great  cause.  Milton 
is  austere,  harsh,  even  bigoted  in  controversy ;  but  no  one 
can  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  convictions  or  his  whole- 
souled  fidelity  to  what  he  conceived  as  duty.  He  had 
many  of  the  faults,  but  he  had  also  the  noblest  virtues, 
of  the  Puritan.  His  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  con- 
cern us  here  chiefly  as  they  are  related  to  his  poetic 
genius.  What  that  genius  itself  was  able  to  accomplish, 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  see. 

We  may  here  observe  that  it  made  him  not  only  the 
Milton  and  greatest,  but  in  many  ways  the  most  representa- 
hisAge  tiye^  literary  figure  of  his  age.     There  was  much 

in   him  of  the   EHzabethan   past.     His    genius    was  most 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  169 

nearly  akin  to  that  of  Spenser  —  "sage  and  serious  Spen- 
ser "  —  whom  he  loved  and  admired.     He  felt  the  influence 
also  of  Benjonson,  but  fortunately  escaped  that  of  Donne. 
To  a  certain  extent  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the  growing 
classicism  of  the  age  —  at   least  in  its  general  spirit  —  for 
he  was  a  superb  poetic  artist,  and  his  work  helped  to  culti- 
vate the  ever  increasing  appreciation  for  perfect  literary 
form.      He  was  a  representative  prose-writer,  and  his  style 
has  many  qualities  in  common  with  that  of  Jeremy  Taylor, 
Sir  Thomas  Browne,  and  other  leading  prose-writers  of  his 
day.     He   had  a  gift  of  lyric  music  as  pure   and  fine  as 
that  of  any  Cavalier   poet,   though   it  was  dedicated  to  a 
higher  service.     As  a  religious   poet,  he  is  not  only  the 
greatest    in    his    age    but   the   greatest   in   the    literature. 
What  other  poets  could  do  well,  he  could  in   his  own  way 
do  better  ;  and  if  we  had  only  Milton  left  to  us,  we  should 
be  able  to  make  reasonable  conjecture  as  to  all  that  was 
accomplished  in  literature  in   his   age.     When  all  is  said, 
however,  Milton  is  one  of  the  most  individual  of  poets. 
His  work  has  a  quality  which  that  of  no  other  man  of   his 
time  possesses.     It  is  the  product  of  a   larger,  a  loftier, 
a  more  gifted,  a  more  consecrated,  nature  —  it  is  Miltonic. 
Milton    was    born    in  London  in   1608.     His    home  at- 
mosphere   was  one    of    culture    and    refinement   as    well 
as    of    genuine    piety.     That    his    father    was    a    musical 
composer  and  that  Milton  was  trained    in    music,  doubt- 
less   meant     much    to    the    development   of    that   poetic 
genius  which  was  to  unlock  so  many  harmonics  of  English 
speech.     Besides  his  home  training,  he  received  Milton's 
a    good    preliminary    education    at    St.    Paul's  Early  Life 
.School  in  London.     T'rom  here  he  went  to  Christ's  College, 
Cambridge,  where  his  beautiful  face,  his  gentle  manners, 
and  his  delicate  spirit  made  him  known  as  "the   Lady  of 
Christ's."     He  had  already  chosen   his  career,  and  in  the 
years  immediately  following   his  departure  from   the   Uni- 


I/O      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 

versity,  he  deliberately  set  himself  to  the  task  of  train- 
ing himself  as  a  poet.  Amid  the  quiet  woods  of  Horton, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  study  and  to  meditation,  to  commun- 
ion with  nature  and  fellowship  with  the  great  dead,  in 
the  faith  "  that  he  who  would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope 
to  write  well  hereafter  in  laudable  things,  ought  himself 
to  be  a  true  poem  ;  that  is,  a  composition  and  pattern  of 
the  best  and  honourablest  things  ;  not  presuming  to  sing 
high  praises  of  heroic  men,  or  famous  cities,  unless  he 
have  in  himself  the  experience  and  the  practice  of  all  that 
which  is  praiseworthy."  Here  his  poetical  career  began. 
From  this  point  we  can  probably  consider  Milton  to  best 
advantage  by  observing  and  comparing  the  three  distinct 
periods  of  his  literary  life.  These  mark  three  strongly  con- 
trasted phases  of  his  character,  his  genius,  and  his  work. 

Milton's  early  poetic  period  covers  some  ten  years  of 
poetic  production,  extending  from  about  his  twentieth  to 
about  his  thirtieth  year.  His  first  notable  poem,  the  Hymn 
Early  Poetic  OH  the  Nativity,  was  written  in  his  twenty-first 
Period  year,  in  1629,  while  he  was  still  at   Cambridge. 

It  strikes  the  high  and  serious  note  that  was  to  character- 
ize all  his  poetry.  This  period  also  includes  a  number  of 
sonnets,  one  of  the  finest  being  written  in  1631  and  en- 
titled On  his  being  arrived  at  the  Age  of  Twenty-three. 
It  is  like  a  consecration  and  a  pledge  that  his  high  poetic 
gifts  shall  be  used 

As  ever  in  my  great  task-master's  eye. 

The  period  is  made  illustrious,  however,  by  four  great 
masterpieces,  each  well-nigh  perfect  in  its  kind. 

L" Allegro  and  //  Penseroso  are  companion  poems,  the 

one  dealing  with  the  cheerful  man,  the  other  with  the 

melancholy  or  meditative  man.     Alike  in  formal 

egroan    ^\^.^^  |-j^gy   g^^-g    finely  Contrasted   in    tone    and 

U  Penseroso  •  r^ 

sentiment.     One  follows  the  course  of  the  day 
from  sunrise  until  evening,  painting  its  rural  sights  and 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  171 

sounds.  The  other  watches  out  the  night  with  the 
lonely  and  pensive  scholar,  setting  noble  thoughts  to 
noble  music.  They  are  typical  of  the  two  opposed  yet 
harmonious  sides  of  Milton's  nature  —  the  one  finding  joy 
in  all  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  the  world,  the  other 
seeking  an  even  higher  delight  in  the  glory  of  lofty 
thought  and  spiritual  contemplation.  Milton  knew  and 
experienced  the  truth  that  the  basis  of  the  poetic  nature 
is  sensuousness  and  passion  ;  he  illustrates  also  the  greater 
truth  that  the  highest  heavens  of  poetry  are  open  only  to 
the  noble  mind  and  the  e.xalted  spirit.  All  of  Milton,  at 
least  in  germ,  lies  in  these  two  matchless  poems  of  his 
youth. 

A  similar  mingling  of  qualities  is  to  be  found  in  Covins, 
a  masque  or  lyrical  drama.  The  Lady  who  is  the  heroine 
of  the  piece  is  lost  at  night  in  the  forest  and 

^  ,       r  1  Comus 

falls  in  with  Comus — god  of  revelry  and  son 
of  Circe  the  enchantress  —  and  his  bestial  crew.  He  en- 
deavors, by  the  power  of  his  enchantments,  to  transform 
her  also  into  the  likeness  of  a  beast,  but  is  not  able  to  ex- 
ercise his  debasing  power  upon  her  stainless  purity.  This 
work  is  thought  by  some  critics  to  be  Milton's  masterpiece. 
It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  delicately  beautiful  poems 
in  the  language,  weaving  together  the  charms  of  blank 
verse,  of  exquisite  lyric  measures,  of  suggestive  imagery, 
and  of  large  poetic  conception.  With  all  this  is  matched 
the  noblest  intellectual  and  moral  spirit.  The  jwem  is  a 
superb  exaltation  of  virtue. 

Lycidas  is  one  of  the  few  supremely  great  elegies.  U 
is  in  form  a  pastoral  poem,  in  which  one  she|)herd  mourns 
the  death  of  another.  Behind  this  familiar  and  conven- 
tional classic  disguise,  Milton  laments  the  death  of  l^dward 
King,  a  college  friend.     The  poem  is  beautitui 

,  I     I  I  ■       1  Lycidas 

smiply  as  a  pastoral,  but  this  does  not  constitute 

its  real  greatness.      Neither  docs  it   lay  Iiold  of  us  chiefly 


1/2      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION   (1500-1660) 

as  an  expression  of  intense  personal  grief;  for  Milton  does 

not  seem  to  have  been  very  intimate  with  King  or  to  have 

felt  any  deep  sense  of  personal  loss.     King  was  something 

of  a  poet  and  also  a  student  for  the  ministry ;  and  these 

facts  gave  Milton  occasion  to  rebuke  the  degeneracy  of 

poetry  and  especially  of  the  clergy  in  his  age.     The  poets 

are  too  light  and  frivolous ;  they  love  too  well  merely 

To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Neaera's  hair. 

The  shepherds  of  the  people  are  "  blind  mouths,"  ignorant 
and  greedy ;  and  the  poet  warns  them  to  beware  of  the 
sword  of  vengeance.  It  is  this  high  and  stern  rebuke  that 
makes  the  poem  unique,  that  intensifies  its  expression  at 
times  to  a  white  heat  of  passion.  Here  for  the  first  time 
in  Milton's  poetry  is  the  austere  tone  of  the  Puritan,  a  tone 
severe  yet  noble,  harsh  yet  truly  poetical. 

In  most  of  the  poetry  of  this  earlier  period,  Milton  is 
akin  to  the  Elizabethan  age  and  the  spirit  of  the  Renais- 
sance, and  is  a  pure  poet.  He  has  a  true  delight  in 
beauty ;  he  shows  a  wonderful  sweetness  and  variety  in 
his  music;  he  joys  in  the  pleasures  of  sense,  while  he  is 
Ouauty  of  ^^  ^^^  same  time  interested  in  higher  concerns  ; 
EarUerPoetry  he  lovcs  and  portrays  nature,  but  still  after  the 
somewhat  artificial  manner  of  the  EHzabethans  ;  he  shows 
in  Comiis  a  romantic  tendency,  which  is  still  further  illus- 
trated by  the  purpose  that  he  long  cherished  of  writing  a 
poem  on  the  basis  of  the  Arthurian  legends ;  he  even 
attempts,  in  Comns,  something  in  dramatic  form,  though 
dramatic  creation  was  essentially  foreign  to  his  genius. 
Even  in  his  earlier  poetry,  however,  Milton  adds  some- 
thing to  these  Elizabethan  and  Renaissance  characteristics. 
His  religious  feeling  is  manifest  in  the  Hymn  on  the 
Nativity,  in  the  sonnets,  in  paraphrases  of  the  Psalms, 
and  in  many  of  the  minor  poems.  His  learning  is  mani- 
fest everywhere,  particularly  in  his  Latin  poetry,  much  of 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTOX   (1625-1660)  I  73 

which  was  written  while  he  was  still  at  Cambridge.  In 
Lycidas,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  a  note  of  seriousness 
and  pathos  of  a  new  kind.  All  of  these  characteristics, 
however,  are  as  yet  subordinated  to  his  poetical  instinct. 
Soon  he  is  to  be  called  away  from  poetry  to  enter  the 
arena  of  ci\il  and  religious  conflict. 

For  about  twenty    years    Milton   forsook    the  ways    of 
poetry  and  became  one  of  the  important  figures  in  a  great 
political   and  religious  movement.     A  few  sonnets  make 
almost  the  whole  extent  of  his  poetical  production,  though 
it  is  certain  that  he  did  not  cease  to  meditate  on  his  great 
poetic  designs.     The  prose  writings  which  made 
the  principal  literary  occupation  of  these  years  p*/„°°pJJ[oj 
were  mainly  controversial,  and  his  controversies 
were  for  the  most  part  either  religious  or  political.     Nearly 
all  of  them  were  directly  associated  with  the  party  conflicts 
of   the    time.     In    large    part,  his    subject-matter  was   of 
interest  only  to  his  own  age,  and  possessed  but  slight  lit- 
erary interest  even  from  that  point  of  view.     Occasionally, 
however,  Milton  rises  to  the  height  of  some  great  argu- 
ment in  a  way  that  gives  his  prose  something  of  the  no- 
bility and    impressiveness  of    his  great  poetry.     Milton's 
prose  style  has  many   and  serious  limitations.     It  is   not 
humorous,  it  is  not  even  genial;  for  Milton,  in  the  heat  of 
intellectual   battle,  was  a  thoroughgoing   Puritan,  though 
he  of  course  represented    Puritanism   on   its   loftiest  and 
most  beautiful  side.     It   is   comparatively  unobservant  of 
the  great  laws  of  prose,  although  Milton  is  in  poetry  one 
of  the  finest  of  literary  artists.     Learned  diction,  periodic 
structure,  long  and  involved  sentences,  all  unite  to  make  it 
cumbersome  and  difTicult.      Milton  was  not  unaware  of  his 
own    limitations   in    the    field    of    prose    controversy.     He 
says  :      "  I    should    n(jt    choose    this    manner    of    writing, 
wherein   knowing   myself   inferior  to    myself,    led   by    tlic 
genial  power  f)f  nature  to  another  task,  I  have  the  use,  as 


174      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (i 500-1660) 

I  may  account,  but  of  my  left  hand."  Yet  the  great  poet 
could  hardly  help,  now  and  again,  pouring  out  into  his  prose 
sentences  some  of  the  splendid  music  of  his  verse  ;  and 
when  his  passion  for  liberty,  for  truth,  for  duty,  finds  fit- 
ting utterance,  few  writers  of  English  prose  are  capable 
of  such  magnificent  harmonies  of  language.  Among  his 
noblest  prose  works,  both  for  matter  and  style,  are  his  Atco- 
pagitica,  a  speech  on  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  his 
Defense  of  the  English  People,  a  justification  of  the  execu- 
tion of  Charles  I.  In  these  and  other  writings,  we  may 
study  Milton's  relation  to  his  age  and  also  the  relation  of 
this  middle  period  of  his  life  to  the  rest  of  his  career.  His 
learning  and  his  intellectual  power  here  found  opportunity 
to  manifest  themselves,  and  his  great  moral  earnestness 
was  also  called  into  action.  He  spoke  noble  and  great 
words  for  literature  and  for  the  freedom  of  human  thought, 
but  the  greatest  of  all  his  powers  was  allowed  to  slumber 
or  at  least  to  brood  in  silence.  In  poetry,  Milton  is 
the  great  artist ;  in  his  prose,  he  forgets  his  art  in  advocat- 
ing his  cause,  and  it  is  only  in  those  fortunate  moments 
when  some  great  thought  burns  within  him  that  he  rises 
to  his  heights  of  eloquence.  Yet  the  period  was  not  fruit- 
less. In  it  we  see  the  man  strongly  revealed,  and 
realize  how  great  he  was  even  in  spite  of  such  limitations. 
We  see  him,  too,  undergoing  a  transformation.  Not  alto- 
gether a  fortunate  one  for  poetry,  it  must  be  confessed  ; 
for  the  ethereal  music  of  Covins  is  to  be  heard  no  more,  and 
the  stern  note  of  Lycidas  has  become  stronger  and  deeper. 
Yet  there  is  to  be  compensation  ;  for  the  later  poetry  is  to 
have  a  depth,  a  solemnity,  a  grandeur,  a  sublimity,  which 
the  earlier  work  promised,  indeed,  but  did  not  quite  pos- 
sess. 

Milton's  public  career  came  to  an  end  with  the  Restora- 
tion of  Charles  II,  in  1660.  He  lived,  however,  for  four- 
teen years  after  that,  "  blind,  old,  and  lonely,."  withdrawn 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTON  (1625-1660)  175 

from  public  notice  and  devoted  again  to  the  great  tasks  of 
poetry.  The  change,  though  in  many  ways  sorrowful  for 
him.  was  a  happy  one  for  literature.  The  poetry  Later  Poetic 
of  this  period  includes  his  great  epic,  Panjdisc  Period 
Lost,  its  companion  poem,  Paradise  Rcgaiiud,  and  his 
noble  drama,  Samson  Agotiistes.  It  is  in  marked  contrast 
with  the  poetry  of  his  early  life.  As  we  have  seen,  that 
earlier  poetry  was  joyous,  bright,  full  of  delight  in  beauty, 
though  full  of  earnestness  and  power  —  in  a  word,  Eliza- 
bethan. The  later  poetry  is  serious,  sombre,  full  of  deep 
moral  earnestness,  beautiful  with  the  beauty  of  profound 
thought  and  of  lofty  spiritual  conception — in  a  word, 
Puritan.  The  music  of  the  one  was  light,  graceful, 
varied  ;  that  of  the  other  is  the  music  of  deep  and  solemn 
organ  tones  reverberating  among  the  arches  of  a  vast 
cathedral.  The  one  is  of  value  as  pure  poetry  ;  the  other, 
because  it  adds  to  poetry  the  value  of  philosophical 
thought  and  religious  emotion.  The  one  is  full  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Renaissance ;  the  other  is  typical  of  the  strong, 
stern,  gloomy  English  nature,  which  is  yet  able  to  clothe 
its  deep  seriousness  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the  garment 
of  immortal  beauty.  With  Milton's  later  verse,  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Renaissance  dies  away  as  a  controlling  force 
in  English  literature.  The  influence  of  the  Reformation, 
transformed  into  the  extreme  religious  type  of  Puritanism, 
here  reaches  its  culmination.  The  reign  of  Puritanism, 
however,  is  to  be  short  ;  and  with  Milton,  it  speaks  its 
greatest,  if  not  quite  its  latest,  word. 

Paradise  Lost  is  generally  esteemed  to  be  Milton's 
master  poetic  work,  contesting  the  palm  with  Dante's 
Divina  Commcdia  for  the  honor  of  being 
named  as  the  greatest  epic  of  the  modern  world.  ^"'■"'"**  ^** 
It  deals  professedly  with  the  fall  of  our  first  jiarents  and 
their  expulsion  from  the  Garden  of  I-'den;  hut,  in  fact,  its 
scheme    is  much  vaster  than  that.     \Vc  have  the  fall  of 


176      RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500  1660) 

Lucifer   and    the    rebel    angels   from    Heaven    and   theii 

erection  of  a  rival  kingdom  in  Hell ;  the  creation  of  the 

universe  and  of    man ;  the  temptation  and  fall  of  Adam 

and  Eve ;  the  entrance  into  the  world  of  sin  and  death  ; 

the  prophetic  vision  of  human  history  and  of  the  promised 

redemption  of  mankind.     All  Milton's  conceptions  are  in 

harmony  with  this  tremendous  plan,  and  he  succeeds  in 

giving  to  it  the  interest  of  a  mighty  cosmic  drama.     He  is 

less  vivid  and  concrete  than  Dante,  but  he  does  not  lose 

himself    in   vagueness.      Above    all    he    possesses    in    a 

supreme  degree  the  power  of  suggesting  by  his  imagery 

the  inconceivable   immensity    and    awful    mystery  of    his 

sublime  visions.     The  form  of  the  poem  fitly  matches  its 

great  argument.     Milton's   blank   verse    is    probably  the 

most  unique  in  the  language  and  hardly  less  than  the  most 

musical   and  sonorous.     It  is  modulated  to  something  of 

his   old-time   sweetness   in  the  descriptions   of    Eden,    or 

when  the  legions  of  Hell  move  over  the  burning  plains 

In  perfect  phalanx  to  the  Dorian  mood 
Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders. 

Again,  it  is  like 

Sonorous  metal  blowing  martial  sounds, 

or  rings  with  the  noise  of 

A  shout  that  tore  Hell's  concave,  and  beyond 
Frighted  the  reign  of  Chaos  and  old  night. 

Most  characteristic  of  all,  it  rolls  and  swells  and  reverber- 
ates like  the  pealing^  of  p^reat  organ  music,  as  in  the  magnif- 
icent invocation  to  light  that  opens  the  third  book  of  the 
poem.  This  same  passage  may  illustrate  Milton's  masterly 
skill  in  the  building  of  the  poetic  paragraph.  It  possesses 
a  symmetry  and  completeness  of  its  own  that  make  it  like 
a  perfect  piece  of  music.  The  harmonies  of  rhyme  linked 
together  into  a  perfect  stanza  could  not  create  a  whole 
more  finished  and  more  self-contained.  Milton  knew  and 
used  all  the  capacities  of  his  great  instrument,  and  added 


THE  AGE  OF  MILTOX   (1625-1660)  17; 

to  the  sublimity  of  his  divine  conceptions  all  the  power 
that  the  music  of  speech  can  yield. 

Paradise  Regained  completes    the  scheme  of  Paradise 
Lost.     It  tells  of  the   redemption   foretold   in    ICden    and 
foreseen    in    the    prophetic    description   of    the  paradise 
Archangel  Michael.     The  theme  of  the  poem  is  Regained 
really  the  Temptation  of  Christ  and  his  victory  over  Satan. 
Adam's  sin  had 

Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe. 
In  the  later  poem,  Milton  sings 

Recover'd  Paradi.se  to  all  mankind. 

By  one  man's  firm  obedience  fully  trv'd 

Tlirougli  all  temptation,  and  tiie  tempter  foil'd. 

The  brief  gospel  narrative  of  the  Temptation  is  expanded 
into  four  books  of  splendid  poetry.  The  work  consists 
mostly  of  dialogue,  and  is  therefore  much  inferior  to 
Paradise  Lost  in  the  interest  of  action  and  character.  It 
is  inferior,  too,  in  music  and  in  richness  of  language.  Its 
power  is  more  restrained,  but  the  power  is  there.  Some 
good  judges  of  poetry  seem  even  to  have  preferred  it  to 
Paradise  Lost,  but  this  has  not  been  the  general  esti- 
mate. 

Savison  Agonistes,  Milton's  last  great  work,  is  a  drama. 
His  model  was  not  the  drama  of  Shakespeare,  but  that  of 
the  Greeks.     The  story  is  that  of  Samson,  "  blind  ^ 

J  '  Samson 

among  enemies,"  seeking  his  own  death  in  the  Agonistes 
destruction  of  the  Philistine  lords.  The  tragedy  is  an  im- 
pressive one,  and  is  all  the  more  pathetic  because  Samson 
is  fitly  typical  of  Milton  himself,  great  in  his  blindness  and 
in  the  shadow  of  approaching  death.  He,  too,  had  fallen 
upon  evil  days  ;  he,  too,  was  lonely  and  dishonored  amid 
the  triumph  of  his  foes.  The  bitterness  of  his  soul  speaks 
out  in  his  last  great  poem.  .Ml  the  old  sweetness  has  gone 
out  of  his  music,  all  the  old  richness  has  disappeared  from 
his  style  ;  but  the  majesty,  the  sublimity,  the  godlike  power, 


178       RENAISSANCE  AND  REFORMATION  (1500-1660) 


are  still  there.     It  is  the  noble  close  of  one  of  the  noblest 
poetic  careers  in  the  history  of  the  English  literature. 

Milton  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  very  greatest  poets  of 
England  and  of  the  world.  He  was  a  man  of  truly  poeti- 
cal nature ;  but  he  was  also  possessed  of  great  intellectual 
power  and  of  great  moral  character.  These  the  spirit  of 
Milton's  his  age  was  able  to  use  to  the  detriment  of  his 
Greatness  poetic  work ;  but  they  nevertheless  contributed 
in  the  end  to  exalt  his  poetic  fame.  He  was  a  revealer  of 
the  mingled  strength  and  beauty,  sternness  and  tenderness, 
gloom  and  glory,  of  the  English  race.  He  was  a  poet 
speaking  for  the  deep  rehgious  feeUng  of  mankind.  We 
may  safely  reject  the  theory  of  Taine  that  he  was  a  great 
poet  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Puritan,  and  hold 
rather  with  Green  that  he  was  a  great  poet  because  he 
was  a  Puritan.  This  may  be  to  the  Jews  a  stumbling-block, 
to  the  Greeks  foolishness,  and  to  the  French  a  riddle ;  but 
if  so,  it  is  the  riddle  of  all  English  poetry — the  riddle  of 
Samson,  "  out  of  the  strong  came  forth  sweetness."  Neither 
Englishmen  nor  Puritans  may  strike  the  world  as  very 
poetical ;  but  after  all,  the  English  race  has  produced  the 
world's  greatest  poetry,  not  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was 
English,  but  because  it  was  English. 


Christs  College,  Cambridge 


Jm^[p^. 


BOOK    IV 
CLASSIC/S.\f  {1660-T780) 

CHAPTER   X 

THE  AGE  OF   DRYDEN    (1660-1700) 

There  came  a  day  when  the  intellectual  enthusiasm  of 
the  Renaissance  and  the  spiritual  fervor  of  the  Reforma- 
tion   had    spent  their  force.     Men   grew    tired 

*  _  Decline  of 

of  the  "  unchartered  freedom  "  of  poetic  f eeUng  ower  im- 

•  DUlsCS 

and  imagination,  grew  tired  also  of  that  religious 
intensity  which  made  the  Puritan  desire  to  worship  God  in 
his  own  way  and  made  him  desire  also  that  all  other  men 
should  worship  God  in  the  same  way.  There  came,  natu- 
rally enough,  a  reaction  which  was  destined  to  change  for  a 
time  the  whole  face  of  literature.  So  far,  the  religious 
spirit  had  been  a  great  literary  impulse  from  the  very  be- 
ginning of  English  literature.  The  spirit  of  romance  had 
been  powerful  ever  since  the  Norman  Conquest,  though 
greatly  modified  by  the  Renaissance.  Now,  men  desired 
to  be  neither  religious  nor  romantic.  If  this  had  been  all, 
the  attitude  would  have  been  merely  a  negative  one,  and 
therefore  incapable  of  producing  any  great  literary  results. 
The  movement,  however,  had  a  positive  side  as  well,  and 
thus  became  genuinely  fruitful. 

The  new  impulse  which  now  became  operative  was  what 
we  ordinarily  call  Classicism.       Men  were  no  longer  genu- 
inely inspired  by  the  ancient  writers,  as  in  the  Rise  of 
days  of  the  Renaissance.     They  sought  to  follow  classicism 
them   in   formal  fasiiion,  and  they  succeeded  in  following 
them  only  afar  off.      It  has  been   truly  said   that   the  clas- 


l8o  CLASSICISM   (1660-1780) 

sical  movement  was  more  Latin  than  Greek,  and  more 
French  than  Latin.  On  the  face  of  it,  it  is  more  dis- 
tinctly foreign  than  any  other  movement  that  has  greatly 
affected  English  literature.  Looking  deeper,  we  shall  see 
that  what  power  it  had  was  due  to  the  fact  that  it  found 
something  already  in  the  English  nature  which  was  in  har- 
mony with  its  spirit.  The  early  Elizabethan  dramatists 
had  endeavored  to  conform  English  drama  to  Senecan 
models,  but  had  found  themselves  swept  away  by  the  great 
tide  of  romanticism.  Ben  Jonson  had  stood  for  classic 
"art"  as  opposed  to  Shakespeare's  wild  "nature,"  but  had 
found  most  of  his  contemporaries  on  Shakespeare's  side. 
The  followers  of  Jonson  had  carried  on  the  classic  tradition, 
but  had  not  made  much  headway.  Milton  had  cultivated 
a  classic  refinement  of  style,  but  had  found  this  phase  of 
his  genius  overshadowed  by  greater  elements.  Now,  at 
last,  in  the  exhaustion  of  powers  greater  in  themselves  and 
more  consonant  with  the  English  character,  the  day  of  the 
classicist  had  come,  and  whatever  of  classic  instinct  was 
latent  in  the  English  nature  was  to  have  its  opportunity. 
The  prevailing  French  influence  strengthened  and  encour- 
aged this  tendency,  but  did  not  create  it.  What  seems  at 
first  sight  like  a  movement  entirely  from  without,  is  seen 
to  be  for  the  most  part  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  Eng- 
lish race  to  develop  powers  hitherto  repressed  and  to  try 
its  strength  in  ways  hitherto  barred.  That  this  is  really 
the  weaker  side  of  the  racial  character  accounts  for  the 
comparative  inferiority  of  the  literature  of  the  classical 
period  ;  that  the  strongest  instincts  of  the  race  led  it  in 
other  directions,  accounts  for  the  powerful  and  complete 
reaction  which  finally  came. 

What  is  Classicism  ?  That  is  a  difificult  question  to 
Meaning  of  answcr  briefly ;  for  the  terqi  is  used  in  many 
Classicism  ways  and  really  means  many  things.  As  ap- 
plied to  the  literature    under   consideration.  Classicism  is 


THE  AGE  OF  DRVDKN'  ( 1660-1 700)  18 1 

essentially  literary  conformity.  Classicists  belong  to  the 
established  church  of  literature  and  are  intolerant  of  lit- 
erary heresy.  Its  reverence  for  authority,  its  finish  of 
form,  its  repression  of  passion  and  imagination,  its  exalta- 
tion of  reason,  its  regularity  and  restraint,  its  essentially 
prosaic  temper  — these  are  some  of  the  characteristics  of 
Classicism.  During  the  three  generations  of  its  dominance, 
Classicism  set  up  three  great  literary  autocrats — John 
Dryden,  Alexander  Pope,  and  Samuel  Johnson.  The  lit- 
erary autocrat  is  of  the  essence  of  the  classical  spirit. 
There  are  no  such  autocrats  elsewhere  in  the  literature. 
Ben  Jonson  approaches  nearest  to  the  type  ;  and  as  we 
have  just  noted,  Ben  Jonson  was  a  prophet  of  Classicism. 
On  the  religious  side,  it  might  appear  as  though  the 
tendency  of  the  age  was  a  revolt  against  too  much  restraint 
rather  than  a  reaction  against  too  much  free-  Religion  ^n,! 
dom.  In  a  sense  it  was  so;  but  the  opposition  Politics 
to  Puritanism  was  a  revolt  against  its  severity,  its  harsh- 
ness, its  intolerance,  its  rigid  standards  of  personal  con- 
duct, rather  than  against  its  religious  authority.  Religious 
authority  had  the  unquestioned,  if  sometimes  too  nominal, 
assent  of  the  age.  Puritanism,  indeed,  in  spite  of  its  own 
tyrannies,  really  represented  freedom  of  conscience  more 
than  did  any  other  phase  of  religious  thought  in  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Men  turned  from  Puritanism  to  accept 
the  easy-going  and  conventional  authority  of  the  Estab. 
lished  Church.  They  accepted  that  as  they  accepted  the 
same  sort  of  authority  in  literature.  Puritanism  was  non- 
conformity ;  and  the  age  was  returning  to  the  established 
order  of  things  both  in  literature  and  in  religion.  Much 
the  same  is  true  in  politics.  After  Cromwell  and  the  Com- 
monwealth, after  an  interval  of  republicanism  tempered  by 
tyranny,  the  age  rijlurncd  to  the  comfortable  doctrine  of 
the  divine  right  of  kings.  When  this  in  its  turn  became 
too  oppressive,  they  dethroned  James   II,  but  only  to  set 


182  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

up  in  his  place  a  more  masterful,  though  more  sensible, 
king.  The  sum  of  the  whole  matter  is  this  —  that  the  age 
desired  the  rule  of  recognized  and  estabhshed,  though  not 
too  harsh  and  unreasonable,  authority  in  church,  in  state, 
and  in  literature.  It  was  this  generally  prevailing  spirit 
that  gave  Classicism  so  easy  a  victory  and  made  it  so 
widely  effective. 

The  literary  results  of  Classicism  are  by  no  means  in- 
significant. The  Restoration  drama,  the  poetry  of  Dryden 
Results  of  ^nd  Pope,  the  prose  of  Swift,  Addison,  Steele, 
Classicism  g^^^  Dcfoc,  are  among  its  most  characteristic 
products.  The  movement  began  in  the  Age  of  Dryden, 
and  reached  its  culmination  in  the  Age  of  Pope ;  but  it 
had  so  much  of  genuine  vitality  that  its  influence  remained 
powerful  through  still  another  generation.  The  names  of 
Goldsmith  and  Samuel  Johnson  will  serve  to  show  that  the 
classical  spirit  was  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with  until  as  late 
as  the  fourth  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  period 
falls  naturally  into  three  divisions,  corresponding  with  the 
literary  lives  of  Dryden,  Pope,  and  Johnson.  It  is  the  lit- 
erature of  the  Age  of  Dryden  that  we  are  first  to  consider. 

We  have  seen  that  Classicism  had  begun  to  develop  in 
literature  long  before  the  date  of  the  Restoration.  It  is 
Survival  of  quitc  as  apparent  that  Puritanism  did  not  sud- 
Puritanism  dcnly  ccEsc  whcu  the  Restoration  had  come. 
The  two  periods  overlap  each  other ;  and  although  there 
was  a  marked  change  in  English  life  with  the  year  1660, 
literature  still  continued  to  bear  some  impress  of  Puritan 
influences  and  ideals.  Most  noteworthy  of  all  is  the  case 
of  Milton,  who  lived  and  wrote  for  fourteen  years  after  the 
return  of  Charles  II.  The  typical  representative,  however, 
of  the  continuance  of  Puritan  sentiment  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  Restoration  Period  is  John  Bunyan.    Dif- 

John  Bunyan    j-  , 

ferent  as  they  were,  therefore,  in  life,  in  tem- 
perament,  and    in    genius,   it  is    fitting   that    Milton  and 


THE    AGE    OF    DRVDEX    (1660- 1700)  183 

Bunyan  should  be  closely  associated  with  each  other  in 
literary  history.  The  one  was  the  great  poet  of  Puritan- 
ism ;  the  other  was  like  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
spiritual  wilderness  of  a  degenerate  age. 

Bunyan  was  some  twenty  years  younger  than  Milton, 
and  was  over  thirty  at  the  date  of  the  Restoration.  He 
had  therefore  grown  to  manhood  under  the  Puritan  rule. 
His  first  literary  work  of  importance,  however,  his  Grace 
Abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sinners,  was  not  produced  until 
1666;  and  the  first  part  of  his  masterpiece,  'J he  Pilgrinis 
Progress,  appeared  some  twelve  years  later.  Bunyan's 
literary  career,  therefore,  belongs  distinctly  to  the  Restora- 
tion Period,  although  his  character  and  genius  were  shaped 
under  Puritan  auspices  and  by  Puritan  ideals.  Bunyan's 
Classicism  had  little  or  no  influence  upon  him,  framing 
nor  did  he  learn  his  marvelous  style  from  French  models. 
His  school  of  literary  art  was  the  English  Bible,  that  great 
Authorized  Version  which  Puritanism  had  learned  by  heart. 
His  style,  therefore,  is  more  akin  to  the  vigorous  and 
imaginative  prose  of  the  previous  generation  than  to  the 
more  finished,  more  intellectual,  more  modern  prose  of  his 
immediate  contemporaries. 

Still  another  reason  for  the  unique  character  of  Bun- 
yan's work  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  was  quite  apart  from 
the  main  literary  currents  of  his  day.  He  was  Bunyan's 
the  son  of  a  poor  country  tinker,  and  followed  ^''* 
his  father's  somewhat  vagabond  trade.  The  schooling  that 
fell  to  his  portion  was  very  slight ;  and  his  literary  path 
was  lighted  only  by  the  Bible  and  by  his  own  remarkable 
genius.  His  early  life  seemed  to  him  a  very  sinful  one, 
though  his  sins  would  appear  tn  have  been  created  or  at 
least  greatly  magnified  by  his  Puritan  temper  and  by  his 
vivid  imagination.  At  any  rate,  he  underwent  a  spiritual 
struggle  in  which  the  terrors  of  sin  and  the  fear  of  dam- 
nation  hung  over  liis  soul  like   a   dark   aiul   awful   cloud. 


1 84  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

At  last  he  felt  that  the  grace  of  God  had  been  extended  to 
him  and  that  his  sins  had  been  pardoned.  He  became  a 
preacher  and  religious  writer ;  and  his  warnings  of  sin  and 
of  God's  wrath  are  mingled  with  an  exalted  delight  in  the 
divine  mercy  and  in  the  heavenly  beauty  of  a  Christlike 
life.  Arrested  for  illegal  preaching,  he  suffered  imprison- 
ment for  twelve  years.  Lying  in  Bedford  jail,  he  had 
those  marvelous  visions  which  grew  into  his  great  allegory. 
The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 

By  some  such  process,  Bunyan's  genius  grew  into  con- 
sciousness of  itself.  He  was  a  born  literary  artist.  Few 
Bunyan's  men  havc  had  a  more  vivid  imagination.  The 
Genius  crcaturcs  of  his  fancy  seemed  almost  more  real 

to  him  than  the  beings  of  the  actual  world.  He  had,  too, 
the  power  of  graphic  portrayal,  whereby  his  ideal  visions 
were  embodied  and  conveyed  in  language.  He  was  the 
master  of  a  style  unsurpassed  for  simplicity,  directness, 
force,  vividness,  and  homely  beauty.  Humble  and  un- 
learned as  he  was,  he  stands  as  the  greatest  writer  of 
English  prose  in  his  generation.  Other  men  were  more 
refined,  more  scholarly,  more  elegant ;  but  none  is  his 
equal  for  naturalness,  earnestness,  sincerity,  and  power. 
Moreover,  his  are  the  only  prose  works  of  his  age  outside 
of  the  drama  which  are  genuine  works  of  literary  art,  true 
products  of  creative  imagination. 

Bunyan's  unquestioned  masterpiece  is  The  Pilgrim's 
Progress.  It  is  an  allegory  of  the  soul's  journey  from  this 
Pilgrim's  sinful  world  to  the  safety  and  joy  of  the  heavenly 
Progress  kingdom.  It  is  the  greatest  prose  allegory  of 
English  literature  and  perhaps  of  the  world.  No  higher 
praise  could  be  given  it  than  to  say  that  it  deserves  to 
stand  beside  Spenser's  great  poetic  allegory.  The  Faerie 
Qiieene.  Like  that,  it  has  the  added  attraction  of  a  fasci- 
nating story,  but  its  appeal  has  been  even  broader.  Spen- 
ser is   "the   poet's    poet";    Bunyan    appeals  to    common 


THE  AGE  OF  DRYDEN  (1660-1700)  185 

men  and  women,  old  and  young,  learned  and  unlearned, 
literary  and  unliterary.  Perhaps  no  other  book  except  the 
Bible  has  been  more  widely  spread  or  more  generally 
known.  In  its  vivid  pictures,  we  may  see  the  reflection  of 
Bunyan's  own  religious  experiences  and  of  his  attitude 
toward  his  age.  Christian  fleeing  from  the  City  of  De- 
struction might  well  seem  a  type  of  Bunyan  himself,  en- 
deavoring to  escape  from  the  licentiousness,  the  frivolity, 
and  the  wicked  folly  of  his  time.  In  the  immortal  picture 
of  Vanity  Fair,  the  age  might  have  seen  its  face  as  in  a 
mirror.  Christian's  imprisonment  in  the  Doubting  Castle 
of  Giant  Despair  reminds  us  of  his  own  weary  confinement. 
Indeed,  one  may  well  conceive  that  the  production  of 
such  a  book  needed  the  conjunction  of  just  such  a  man 
and  just  such  an  age. 

Bunyan  wrote  another  great  allegory,  TJic  Holy  War, 
but  it  does  not  equal  The  Pilgriuis  Progress.  Perhaps  the 
work  which  stands  nearest  to  his  masterpiece  is  Bunyan's 
his  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman.  The  one  '^"^^  '^'''^^ 
is  a  great  romance ;  the  other  is  a  brief  but  powerful  tran- 
script from  real  life.  It  is  interesting,  not  only  for  its 
dramatic  effectiveness,  but  also  as  containing  many  of  the 
features  that  were  later  to  constitute  the  modern  novel. 
Both  in  this  work  and  in  The  Pilgrivi  s  Progress,  Bunyan 
shows  his  power  to  conceive  lifelike  characters,  to  invent 
striking  incidents,  to  create  impressive  scenes,  to  construct 
a  well-ordered  plot.  Afr.  Badman  is  inferior  in  the  latter 
respect ;  but  if  the  distinctive  features  of  the  two  books 
could  have  been  united,  we  should  have  had  something 
very  like  a  great  novel. 

John  Dryden  was  the  typical  literary  figure  of  his  time. 
Practically  all  that  the  Age  of  the   Restoration  was  may 
be  seen  or  guessed  in  him.      lie  represents  its 
Classicism  —  its  desire  tor  finished,   restrained, 
orderly  expression.      He  represents  its  moral — or  rather 


i86  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

its  immoral  —  temper,  while  at  the  same  time  he  repre- 
sents what  it  retained  of  true  and  manly  religious  spirit. 
Its  gayety,  its  brilliance,  its  wit,  together  with  its  more 
solid  intellectual  qualities,  are  to  be  found  in  him.  The 
literature  of  the  age  may  be  divided  into  miscellaneous 
prose,  poetry,  and  drama ;  and  in  each  of  these  depart- 
ments, Dryden  is  the  central  figure.  Nothing  is  more 
impressive  than  the  range  of  his  literary  work,  unless  it 
be  its  excellence  in  every  kind. 

Dryden's  literary  career  began  with  the  publication,  in 
1659,  of  his  Heroic  Stanzas,  written  on  the  death  of  Oliver 
Early  Poetry  Cromwell.  Only  the  next  year,  he  wrote  his 
and  Prose  Astrcza  Rediix,  or  Justice  Returned,  welcoming 
the  Restoration  of  Charles  II.  This  desertion  of  the  Puri- 
tan cause  is  not  really  so  bad  as  it  seems.  Dryden  had 
been  a  Puritan  chiefly  through  family  associations  and 
traditions ;  his  enthusiasm  for  the  Puritan  cause  had  never 
been  very  fervid  ;  and  in  becoming  a  Royalist,  he  was 
probably  following  the  natural  tendency  of  his  own  tem- 
perament. In  1667  he  published  his  first  long  poem, 
Annus  Mirabilis,  or  the  Wonderful  Year,  commemorating 
the  sea  victories  over  the  Dutch  and  the  great  fire  of 
London  in  1666.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  making  his 
beginnings  in  prose,  by  means  of  critical  prefaces  to  his 
dramas,  and  of  his  Essay  on  the  Historical  Poem,  intro- 
ductory to  the  Annus  Mirabilis.  His  most  famous  critical 
work,  the  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy,  was  published  sepa- 
rately in  1667. 

Dryden  had  already  written  several  dramas ;  and  about 
this  time,  he  ceased  from  poetry  and  turned  his  energies 
for  a  time  entirely  to  dramatic  writing.  It  was  in  con- 
nection with  the  stage  that  he  achieved  the  successes  that 
Dramatic  firmly  established  his  reputation.  Drama  was 
Work  j-j^g   favorite   literary   form   of   the    Restoration. 

The   demand    for   plays   was   very    great ;    and    Dryden, 


THE  AGE  OK  UKYDEN   (1660-1700)  187 

as  a  professional  man  of  letters  rather  than  a  strongly 
individual  genius,  was  tempted  to  seek  that  form  of  liter- 
ary expression  which  was  most  largely  and  immediately 
profitable.  Up  to  1681  he  had  written  some  twenty 
dramas.  His  best  abilities  did  not  lie  in  tliis  direction  ; 
but  his  perfection  of  literary  talent  gave  him  a  large 
measure  of  success,  and  his  strong  personality  made  him 
a  recognized  leader.  He  wrote  so-called  heroic  plays, 
tragedies,  comedies,  and  tragi-comedies.  Among  his  best- 
known  dramas  are  The  Maiden  Onee?i,  TynDuiic  Love, 
All  for  Love,  and  T/ie  Spanish  Friar.  Dryden's  dramatic 
faults  are  extravagance  and  bombast  in  the  style,  unnatu- 
ralness  in  the  characters,  and  lack  of  dramatic  effective- 
ness in  the  plots.  Such  defects  would  seem  almost  fatal 
to  good  drama  ;  but  Dryden  counterbalanced  them  in  some 
degree  by  his  literary  adroitness  and  by  his  genuine  poetic 
talent.  It  is  curious  to  note  that  Dryden  wrote  many  of 
his  plays  in  the  favorite  heroic  couplet.  He  led  the 
fashion  in  this  respect,  and  was  the  leader  also  in  the 
return  to  blank  verse. 

In  1 68 1  Dryden  forsook  the  drama  and  did  not  return 
to  it  until  late  in  his  life.  He  was  now  fifty  years  of  age 
and  had  not  yet  produced  a  single  work  that  can  be  called 
a  great  masterpiece.  He  had,  however,  attained  to  a  fine 
mastery  of  all  the  arts  of  literary  expression,  and  was  now 
ready  for  the  great  works  of  his  life.  In  1681  he  began 
the  most  wonderful  series  of  political  verse  satires  in  the 
English  language,  by  the  publication  of  Absalom 

Satires 

and  Achitopliel.  In  the  next  year  he  produced 
The  Medal  and  Mac  Flecknoe.  These  works  place  Dry- 
den among  the  very  first  of  English  satirists.  His  special 
gift,  a  gift  in  which  he  has  never  been  excelled,  is  that  of 
drawing  a  satirical  jjortrait.  His  sketches  in  this  kind 
arc  all  the  UKjre  effective  because  of  Dryden's  disposi- 
ti(jn  to  d(j    justice  to  any  good    (|ualilies  wliich    he    may 


l88  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

recognize  in  his  victim.  Following  the  satires,  he  turned 
his  attention  to  religious  subjects,  and  wrote,  in  1682,  his 
Religious  RcUgio  Laid,  or  A  Layman  s  Faith,  setting 
Poetry  forth    his    adherence    to    the    Church    of    Eng- 

land. Only  five  years  later,  after  the  accession  of  James 
II,  who  was  a  Roman  Catholic,  Dryden  celebrated  his 
own  conversion  to  Catholicism  by  writing  The  Hind  and 
the  Panther,  a  remarkable  allegorical  poem,  in  which  the 
hind  represents  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  and  the  pan- 
ther the  Church  of  England.  In  this  change  of  religion, 
Dryden  can  not  wholly  escape  the  charge  of  self-interest ; 
but  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  little  doubt  that  it  was  in 
harmony  with  his  own  character  and  convictions.  It  is 
to  be  noted  to  his  credit  that  upon  the  accession  of  the 
Protestant  William  of  Orange  in  1688,  he  remained  stead- 
fastly true  to  his  new  faith. 

By  the  Revolution  of  1688,  through  which  James  II  was 
driven  into  exile  and  William  and  Mary  were  seated  on 
Dryden's  the  English  throne,  Dryden  lost  his  positions  as 
Old  Age  poet-laureate  and  historiographer-royal,  together 

with  all  other  aid  and  countenance  from  the  government. 
This  reverse  of  fortune  compelled  him  in   his  later  years 
to  the  greatest  activity  of  his  life.     He  engaged 
first    in    translation  from  the  classics,  his  chief 
work  in  this  kind  being  a  translation  of  all  of  Virgil.     In 
addition  to  this,  he  translated  from  Theocritus,  Lucretius, 
Horace,    Homer,    Persius,    Juvenal,    Ovid,   and    Plutarch. 
What  was  more  important,  he  continued  his  noble  work  in 
lyric  poetry,  begun  before  the  Revolution,     His  most  not- 
able lyrics  are  his  Eles:y  on  Anne  Killio-rew,  his 

Lyrics  ■'  ^-^  <b  ' 

first   Song  for  St.  Cecilia  s  Day,  and   his  Alex- 

anders   Feast,    or    second    song   for    St.     Cecilia's    Day. 

Between    1690    and    1694  he  wrote  five    more 

plays,  thus  closing  his  dramatic  labors.     In  1698 

he  began  his  Fables,  and  in  March,  1700,  published  Fables, 


THE  AGE  OF  DRYDEN  (1660-1700)  189 

AiiciiHt  and  Modcrti,  traushxtcd  into  Verse,  frojn  Homer, 
Ovid,  Boccace,  and  Chaucer,  with  Original  Poems  by  Mr. 
Drydoi.  In  a  fine  preface  he  gives  us  his  last  piece  of 
literary  criticism.  The  Fables  was  Drydeii's  last  book ; 
for  on  the  ist  of  May,  1700,  just  as  he  was  approach- 
ing the  limit  of  his  threescore  years  and  ten,  he  died  in 
London.  He  was  given  a  splendid  public  funeral,  and  was 
buried  in  the  Poets'  Corner  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

Dryden  was  a  man  of  supreme  talent  rather  than  of 
great  spontaneous  genius.  As  we  have  seen,  he  was  pre- 
eminently a  man  of  his  age.  He  was,  however,  something 
more  than  the  greatest  figure  in  a  comparatively  Dryden-s  Lit- 
inferior  literary  period.  He  is  one  of  the  great  eraryRank 
poets  of  English  literature.  Though  not  of  supreme 
stature,  he  is  still  one  of  the  race  of  giants.  A  not  un- 
worthy successor  of  Milton,  he  hands  on  the  tradition  of 
great  English  poetry  to  the  men  who  have  made  illus- 
trious the  literature  of  the  last  two  hundred  years.  He 
possessed  many  noble  qualities  which  raised  him  above 
the  level  of  his  age  and  made  him  worthy  to  rank  with 
the  great  ones  of  the  literature.  Strength  and  solidity  of 
mind,  accuracy  and  comprehensiveness  of  scholarship,  as- 
tonishing fluency  and  versatility,  masterly  skill  as  a  lit- 
erary workman,  brilliant  wit,  keenness  of  discrimination 
and  insight,  an  imagination  vivid  if  not  original,  a  poetic 
sense  real  if  not  profound  —  these  are  some  of  the  qualities 
that  made  Dryden  great.  A  noble  poet,  an  almost  unsur- 
passed satirist,  a  skilful  dramatist,  an  accomplished  literary 
critic,  a  master  of  English  prose  —  these  are  some  of  his 
titles  to  honor. 

The  prose  of  the  Restoration  marks  a  decline  from  the 
fer\'or  and  imaginative  splendor  of  the  early  seventeenth- 
century  style  ;  but  it  marks  a  distinct  advance  in  RestoruUon 
the  direction  of  the  more  modern   prose  virtues  p^'"* 
of   clearness,   order,   and    precision.     Classicism   operated 


190  CLASSICISM   (1 660-1 780) 

to  restrain  and  to  deaden  poetry,  but  its  influence  on 
prose  was  in  many  ways  advantageous.  Prose  before  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  reach  the  levels  of  poetry ;  now 
poetry  for  a  time  was  brought  down  to  the  level  of  prose, 
and  the  distinctively  prose  virtues  were  cultivated.  The 
final  result  was  that  each  form  of  expression  better  learned 
its  own  powers  and  limitations.  Thereafter,  each  devel- 
oped in  its  own  proper  direction.  The  typical  prose-writer 
of  the  age  was  Dryden,  and  no  other  man  save  Bunyan  rises 
to  great  distinction  in  this  field.  There  were,  however,  sev- 
eral men  who  were  writing  prose  of  admirable  quality. 

One  of  the  earliest  of  these  was  Abraham  Cowley, 
whose  poetical  work,  contemporary  with  that  of  Milton,  has 
Abraham  already  been  considered.  In  his  Discourse,  by 
Cowley  Way  of   Vision,   Concerning  the  Government  of 

Oliver  Cromivell,  he  shows  the  transition  from  the  old 
style  to  the  new.  His  Essays  are  in  the  later  manner. 
The  subjects  of  Cowley's  interest  are  shown  by  some  of 
the  titles:  Of  Greatness,  Of  Myself,  Of  Liberty,  Of  Soli- 
tude, Of  Obscurity,  The  Garden.  Probably  no  man  of  the 
time  —  not  even  Dryden  —  has  a  more  modern  air  or  a 
more  finished  and  elegant  style  than  Sir  WilUam  Temple. 
Sir  William  Temple  was  a  statesman,  a  diplomat,  a  cultured 
Temple  gentleman,  a  man  of  retired  leisure,  and  wrote 

on  a  considerable  variety  of  topics  suggested  by  his  public 
or  private  interests  and  ranging  from  gardening  to  diplo- 
macy, from  gout  to  Greek  learning.  Probably  his  most 
famous  single  sentence  is  this: 

When  all  is  done,  human  life  is,  at  the  greatest  and  the  best,  but 
like  a  froward  child,  that  must  be  played  with  and  humoured  a  little  to 
keep  it  quiet  till  it  falls  asleep,  and  then  the  care  is  over. 

Other  writers  there  were  —  in  divinity,  in  philosophy,  in 
history,  and  in  science  —  whose  style  illustrated 

Minor  Prose       .  ■' 

in  one   way  or   another  the   tendencies  of  the 
age ;  but  it  would  carry  us  too  far  afield  to  cite  individual 


THE  AGE  OF  DRYDEN   (1660-1700)  191 

cases.  They  were  not  strictly  men  of  letters,  and  their 
service  to  literature  was  purely  incidental.  Perhaps  the 
chief  service  of  them  all  as  a  body  was  in  subordinating 
style  to  matter  and  thus  bringing  it  nearer  to  the  modern 
ideal  of  the  function  of  good  prose,  namely,  to  be  the 
clear  and  transparent  medium  for  the  untrammelled  ex- 
pression of  the  thought.  If,  aside  from  the  work  of 
Bunyan,  the  Age  of  the  Restoration  produced  no 
great  masterpiece  of  prose  literature,  it  did  much  to  make 
prose  style  an  adequate  medium  for  great  literary  ex- 
pression. 

In  poetry,  also,  the  name  of  Dryden  must  be  set  in  the 
first    place.     He  was,   indeed,  first  without    even   a   near 
rival.     No  one  was    his    equal    as    an    original  Restoration 
poet ;  no    one    was    his    equal    as    a    translator.  Poetry 
Two  minor  poets  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  rather  scant 
poetical  production  of  the  period. 

Andrew  Marvell  was  like  John  Bunyan  in  being  a  be- 
lated Puritan,  living  far  on  into  the  Restoration  Period ; 
but  he  was  a  far  different  type  of  man  from  the  Andrew 
inspired  tinker  of  Bedford.  Marvell  had  been  Marveii 
associated  with  the  Puritan  party  and  had  been  promi- 
nent in  public  life.  Among  other  positions  he  held  under 
Cromwell  that  of  joint  Latin  secretary  with  Milton.  After 
the  Restoration  he  remained  in  public  life,  sitting  in 
Parliament  an  austere  and  incorruptible  patriot  among 
base  and  venal  politicians.  His  earlier  poetry  was  de- 
scriptive and  lyrical,  and  contains  much  that  is  beautiful 
and  melodious.  His  later  work,  following  the  fashion  of 
the  later  time,  was  satirical.  His  satire  is  severe  and  even 
savage,  but  he  never  attained  to  anything  of  that  finish 
and  brilliancy  in  satire  which  characterized  the  work  of 
Dryden,  to  anything  of  that  quality  which  lifts  satire  above 
the  interest  of  a  mere  passing  day,  and  makes  it  im- 
mortal. 


192  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

Samuel  Butler  was  also  a  satirist,  and  one  of  very  dif- 
ferent fashion.  He,  too,  lacked  Dryden's  perfect  art  in 
Samuel  satire,    as    he   also    lacked    either    Dryden's   or 

Butler  Marvell's  poetical  gift ;  but   his   work  had    de- 

cided effectiveness  in  its  own  way,  and  gains  added  inter- 
est from  its  historical  relations.  No  poet  better  represents 
the  revolt  against  Puritanism.  His  masterpiece  —  for  it 
is  a  masterpiece  of  its  sort  — ■  is  a  mock-epic  poem  called 
Hiidibras.  It  is  a  ridiculous  lampoon  of  the  vices  and 
peculiarities  of  the  extreme  Puritan.  Sir  Hudibras  and  his 
squire  Ralpho  were  suggested  by  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho 
Panza;  but  their  adventures  are  mainly  of  Butler's  own 
devising.  The  first  part  of  the  work  was  published  in 
1663.  It  became  extremely  popular  with  the  court  party; 
and  under  the  influence  of  this  popularity,  Butler  extended 
it  from  time  to  time  until  as  late  as  1678.  As  a  whole,  it 
possesses  no  great  literary  merit,  either  in  construction  of 
plot  or  in  conception  of  characters  ;  but  Butler  had  a  keen 
and  bitter  wit,  and  parts  of  the  poem  are  shrewdly  satirical 
and  vividly  grotesque.  Among  other  things  he  says  that 
the  Puritans 

Compound  for  sins  they  are  inclined  to 
By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to. 

A  sort  of  remote  echo  of  the  beautiful  lyric  poetry  of 
the  earlier  Cavalier  poets  is  heard  in  the  poems  of  a  num- 
ber of  brilliant  but  profligate  Restoration  versifiers.     One 

of  the  most  charming  is  a  song  of  Sir  Charles 

Sedley,  beginning 

Love  still  has  something  of  the  sea, 
From  whence  his  Mother  rose. 


Sedley 


An  EpitapJi  on  diaries  II,  by  John  Wilmot,  Earl  of 
Rochester,  is  exceedingly  apt  to  its  subject,  and 
has  probably  never  been  surpassed  in  its  kind  : 


THE  AGE  OF  DRV  DEN  (1660- 1700)  193 

Here  lies  our  Sovereign  Lord  the  King, 

Wliose  word  no  man  relies  on, 
Who  never  said  a  foolish  thing, 

And  never  did  a  wise  one. 

The  theatres,  which  had  been  closed  during  the  Puritan 
domination,  were  immediately  opened  at  the  Restoration. 
Dramatic  spectacles  became  immensely  popular,  Restoration 
and  the  demand  for  dramatic  work  was  great.  Drama 
We  have  already  seen  that  Dryden  yielded  to  this  demand 
almost  entirely  for  about  fifteen  years.  He  was  by  no 
means  alone.  Indeed,  a  large  number  of  writers,  of  greater 
or  less  ability,  were  attracted  to  the  drama,  and  an  extensive 
body  of  dramatic  work  was  produced.  Most  of  it  was 
marked  by  two  striking  characteristics  —  brilliancy  of  treat- 
ment and  profligacy  of  manners.  The  English  drama  has 
never  displayed  greater  finish  or  wit,  and  it  has  never  de- 
scended to  a  lower  moral  level.  Dryden  himself  was  no 
excej)tion  to  this  general  rule,  being  in  this,  as  in  so  many 
other  respects,  the  creature  of  his  age. 

One  of  the  most  striking  exceptions  was  Thomas  Otway, 
the  most  successful  writer  of  tragedy  in  the  period.  His 
two  principal  works.  The  Orphan  and  Venice  Pie-  Thomas 
sen'ed,  are  not  unworthy  of  the  Elizabethan  °*^^y 
dramatic  tradition.  Otway  was  inferior  in  genius  to  most 
of  his  great  predecessors ;  but  he  still  retained  something 
of  their  quality.  He  had  much  of  their  tragic  intensity, 
much  of  their  romantic  spirit,  and  not  a  little  of  their  gift 
of  true  poetry.  He  knew  how  to  strike  the  note  of  terror 
and  the  note  nf  pathos.  His  feeling  is  sincere,  his  char- 
acters are  natural,  his  plots  are  interesting.  When  he 
endeavors  to  introduce  a  comic  clement  into  his  work,  he 
is  decidedly  unfortunate  and  not  untouched  by  the  prevail- 
ing coarseness  ;  but  within  his  own  field,  he  is  a  true  though 
limited  master. 

It  is  in  comedy  that  the  characteristic  features  of  the 


1^4  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

age  are  seen.  There  were  many  writers,  but  four  of  them 
William  stand  out  with  unusual  prominence.  The  first 
wycheriey  of  theso  is  William  Wycherley,  who  probably  rep- 
resents the  fashionable  life  of  the  age  at  its  basest  if  not 
at  its  most  immoral.  Macaulay  characterizes  Wycherley's 
Country  Wife  as  "  one  of  the  most  profligate  and  heartless 
of  human  compositions,"  and  says  of  his  Plain-Dealer  that 
it  is  "  equally  immoral  and  equally  well- written."  Wycher- 
ley had  wit  and  dramatic  skill,  but  these  do  not  save  his 
immorality  from  being  somewhat  brutal  as  well  as  flagrant. 

William  Congreve  was  greater  in  almost  every  respect. 
Probably  no  more  brilliant  dialogue  or  more  sparkling  wit 
wiii  m  than  his  has  been  seen  in  English  comedy.  His 
Congreve  characters  are  natural ;  his  plots  are  interesting, 
though  sacrificed  somewhat  to  his  dialogue.  His  immoral- 
ity is  less  heartless  than  Wycherley's,  but  its  greater  refine- 
ment does  not  save  his  work  from  being  both  cynical  and 
corrupt.  This  immoral  element  is  a  part  of  the  very  tex- 
ture of  his  plays  and  can  not  be  eradicated  ;  but  if  we 
could  imagine  them  as  existing  at  all  without  it,  such  plays 
as  TJie  Double-Dealer,  Love  for  Love,  and  TJie  Way  of  the 
World  would  be  among  the  best  as  well  as  among  the 
most  brilliant  of  English  comedies  of  manners. 

Sir  John  Vanbrugh  at  his  best  approaches  Congreve, 
but  is  much  more  unequal.  TJie  Relapse,  The  Provoked 
Sir  John  Wife,  and  The  Confederacy  are  his  three  note- 

vanbrugh  worthy  plays.  The  latter  carries  us  a  little  way 
into  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  best  productions  of 
George  Farquhar,  such  as  The  Recruiting  Officer  and  Tiie 
George  Beaux'  Stratagem.     Farquhar    is    no    model  of 

Farquhar  morality;  but  the  plays  just  mentioned  are  a 
decided  improvement  over  those  of  his  contemporaries, 
as  well  as  over  his  own  early  efforts.  He  is  more  frank, 
more  good-natured,  characterized  by  genial  humor  rather 


THE  AGE  OF  DRYDEN  (1660-1700) 


195 


than  by  biting  wit.  The  Rccniiting  Officer  contains  the 
character  of  Captain  Plume  —  said  to  be  drawn  from  Far- 
quhar  himself  —  and  that  of  Sergeant  Kite  —  the  singer 
of  "  Over  the  hills  and  far  away."  Tlic  Beaux'  Stratagem 
gives  us  Boniface,  the  inn-keeper,  and  Lady  Bountiful. 
It  is  probably  the  very  best  of  Restoration  comedies ;  and 
Farquhar's  death  at  twenty-nine  probably  cut  short  the 
promise  of  still  better  work  in  both  the  artistic  sense  and 
the  moral. 


^^■•^. 


Ei_sTo\v  Chikch  and  Gkkk.n,  1658 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  AGE   OF   POPE  (1700-1740) 

The  Age  of  Dryden,  as  we  have  seen,  was  character- 
ized by  a  reaction  against  Puritanism  and  by  the  develop- 
ment of  Classicism.  The  former  movement  tended  toward 
frivolity,  licentiousness,  and  practical  if  not  theoretical 
irreligion.  Looseness  of  life  did  not  necessarily  involve 
unbelief,  but  it  did  involve  practical  unrighteousness.  The 
classical  movement  tended  toward  repression  of  emotion, 
of  imagination,  and  of  originality  —  toward  undue  em- 
phasis upon  the  literary  value  of  mere  reason,  and  toward 
formal  excellence  and  finish  of  style.  With  reference 
to  these  movements  —  the  religious  and  the  literary 
Moral  —  the  Age  of  Pope  marked  both  reaction  and 

Reaction  advaucc.  The  reaction  appeared  chiefly  on  the 
religious  side,  and  it  was  a  reaction  which  meant  decided 
improvement  in  life  and  incidentally  in  the  moral  tone  of 
literature.  The  Age  of  Pope  was  not  a  religious  age, 
it  did  not  experience  any  great  revival  of  morality  or  of 
Christian  zeal ;  but  it  did  perceive  that  the  previous  gen- 
eration had  gone  too  far,  that  its  spirit  was  destructive  of 
human  society  and  of  the  highest  values  in  literature,  and 
that  effort  must  be  made  to  bring  back  a  purer  moral  tone. 
This  effort  was  consciously  and  effectively  made,  and  the 
literature  of  this  age  became  in  consequence  vastly  cleaner, 
both  in  thought  and  in  speech.  There  was  no  reversion 
to  Puritanism  ;  the- men  of  the  time  had  little  taste  for  that. 
But  there  was  a  reaction  against  moral  lawlessness  ;  and  the 
age  took  a  middle  ground  between  Puritan  strictness  and 

196 


J^    (A^ 


THE  ACE  OF  POPK   (1700-1740)  I97 

Restoration  licentiousness.  It  can  not  be  said  that  this 
produced  an  age  of  pure  living  and  of  high  ideals.  Cor- 
ruption and  bribery  were  common  in  politics.  Drunken- 
ness, brutality,  and  crime  were  prevalent  to  an  alarming 
extent.  The  reformation  was  perhaps  too  much  a  matter 
of  form,  of  profession,  and  of  theory,  rather  than  of  spirit. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  a  gain,  and  the  reaction  against 
Restoration  excess  involved  a  real  advance  toward  a  rec- 
ognition of  higher  standards. 

This  reaction  on  the  moral  side  was  accompanied 
by  an  unquestionable  advance  on  the  side  of  Classicism. 
Conformity  to  recognized  literary  authority  was  still  further 
emphasized,  individuality  was  still  further  re-  Advance  in 
pressed  ;  and  the  age  doubtless  felt  that  this,  Classicism 
like  the  effort  for  greater  morality,  was  in  the  interest  of 
social  order  as  well  as  for  the  advantage  of  literature. 
Originality  became  less  and  less  ;  order,  regularity,  critical 
authority,  became  more  and  more.  Imagination  and  pas- 
sion were  restrained,  in  order  that  mere  expression  might 
be  polished  and  refined  to  the  last  degree.  The  effort  was, 
not  to  say  something  new,  but  to  say  something  better 
than  it  had  ever  been  said  before.  It  might  be  supposed 
that  this  would  be  utterly  fatal  to  great  literary  creation, 
and  its  tendency  unquestionably  was  in  that  direction. 
Nevertheless,  the  age  did  great  things  for  literature,  and 
even  opened  up  new  literary  highways.  This  is  proba- 
bly due  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  the  age  possessed  a  number 
of  men  of  remarkable  literary  ability,  too  great  to  be  alto- 
gether bound  and  hindered  even  by  the  rules  which  they 
had  set  for  themselves.  Genius  has  not  seldom  found  its 
own  instinctive  way,  in  spite  of  theory  and  prescription. 
Moreover,  this  age  was  already  beginning  to  be  uncon- 
sciously stirred  by  certain  human  forces  that  were  later  to 
overthrow  Classicism  and  to  shape  the  literature  of  the 
coming  time.      Nor  must  we  think  of  Classicism  itself  as 


198  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

altogether  a  negative  influence.  It  had  positive  virtues 
which  helped  to  give  an  added  efficiency  to  literature,  and 
which,  as  we  shall  see,  were  to  make  real  contribution 
toward  literary  development 

The  worst  effect  of  Classicism  was  felt  in  poetry. 
Great  poetry  lives  and  moves  in  the  realm  of  passion  and 
Classicism  imagination  ;  and  when  these  are  restrained,  its 
and  Poetry  wings  are  clipped.  There  is  no  poet  of  the  age, 
therefore,  spreading  "ample  pinion,"  and 

Sailing  with  supreme  dominion 
Thro'  the  azure  deep  of  air. 

But  there  is  at  least  one  —  Alexander  Pope  —  who  spreads 
abroad  the  ample  fan  of  the  peacock's  gorgeous  feathers 
and  struts  with  measured  stride  across  the  smooth  green 
sward.  Prose,  on  the  contrary,  drew  decided  advantage 
Classicism  from  thcsc  samc  conditions.  What  it  needed 
and  Prose  Wcis,  not  the  high  passion  of  Milton  or  the 
golden  imagery  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  but  just  those  qualities 
of  regularity,  precision,  directness,  and  reason  which  this 
age  was  so  well  fitted  to  provide*  As  a  prose  period,  this 
is  one  of  the  most  notable  in  English  literature ;  and  to  its 
classical  influences  we  owe  it  in  large  measure  that  our 
modern  English  prose  approaches  the  admirable  clearness 
and  lucidity  of  the  French  rather  than  the  comparative 
formlessness  of  the  German.  Our  own  earlier  prose- 
writers,  great  as  many  of  them  undoubtedly  were,  were 
headed  in  the  wrong  direction ;  and  English  prose  style 
needed  just  such  discipline  and  guidance  as  it  was  now 
to  receive,  in  order  that  it  might  henceforth  take  its  own 
proper  path  and  develop  its  own  natural  powers.  Prose 
has  not  altogether  ceased  to  soar,  on  due  occasion  ;  but  in 
the  main,  its  proper  function  is  pedestrian,  and  its  daily 
business  is  to  serve  as  the  useful  servant  of  the  world's 
thought.     In  view  of  this  important  mission,  it  was  decid- 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  199 

edly  worth  while  that  one  period  of  our  literary  his- 
tory should  be  devoted  chiefly  to  learning  the  lesson  of 
a  serviceable  prose  style.  That  lesson  the  literature  has 
never  forgotten.. 

The  most  unique  genius  of  the  age,  and  beyond  doubt 
its  great  prose-writer,  was  Jonathan  Swift.  He  was  of 
English  parentage,  and  of  decidedly  English  character  and 
genius;  but  the  accidents  of  his  life  determined  that  he 
should  be  much  associated  with  Ireland,  and  Jonathan 
this  association  was  to  have  inijiortant  bearings  swift:  Life 
upon  his  literary  work.  He  was  born  in  Dublin  in  1667, 
and  received  his  education  first  at  Kilkenny  School  and 
afterward  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  It  will  thus  appear 
that  he  was  Irish  by  place  of  birth  and  by  education,  and 
that  all  of  his  early  life  was  passed  in  Ireland.  After 
leaving  college,  however,  he  went  to  pngland,  where  he 
served  for  nearly  ten  years  as  private  secretary  to  Sir 
William  Temple,  whom  we  have  already  met  as  one  of  the 
prose-writers  of  the  Restoration  Period.  Temple  was  a 
distant  relative  of  Swift,  and  was  doubtless  as  willing  as 
he  was  able  to  be  of  service  to  the  young  man  in  the 
beginnings  of  his  literary  career.  The  association,  how- 
ever, *was  not  in  all  respects  a  happy  one;  Swift  had  a 
terribly  proud  and  imperious  nature  and  could  ill  brook  the 
relation  of  a  mere  underling  to  any  man.  Consequently, 
he  entered  the  church  and  became  the  incumbent  of  a 
small  Irish  parish.  Little  satisfied  with  his  new  life,  he 
soon  returned  to  Temple's  service ;  but  on  the  death  of 
the  latter  in  1699,  he  went  to  Ireland  again.  A  mission 
for  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  finally  brought  him  to 
London,  where  his  vigorous  personality  and  great  literary 
ability  soon  made  hini  an  almost  indispensable  political 
instrument  to  some  of  the  Tory  leaders.  They  held  out 
to  him  the  hope  <>(  a  bishopric  ;  but  the  opposition  of 
Queen   Anne   is  saitl    tu   have    frustrated    this    plan.      His 


200  CLASSICISM   (1660-1780) 

important  services  were  finally  rewarded  —  in  a  fashion 
bitterly  disappointing  to  him  —  with  the  deanery  of  St. 
Patrick's  Cathedral  in  Dublin.  This  took  him  to  Ireland 
again ;  and  there  he  lived  for  the  remaining  thirty  years 
or  more  of  his  life.  What  seemed  to  him  hke  exile  was 
occasionally  broken  by  visits  to  his  friends  in  England. 
After  terrible  physical  suffering  and  some  five  years  of 
madness,  he  died  in  Dublin  in  1745. 

Swift  was  a  man  of  astonishing  genius,  and  might  have 

been  eminent  in  almost  any  intellectual  pursuit.     He  was 

primarily  a  man  of  action,  and  turned  to  litera- 

Swift'sGemus  ^^^^  mainly  as  an  instrument  for  advancing  his 

and  Character  -'  ° 

practical  ends.  He  found  it,  too,  a  medium 
through  which  he  might  pour  forth  the  passion  of  his 
intense  nature  and  the  vivid  experience  of  his  strange 
career.  His  literary  work,  therefore,  is  closely  associated 
with  the  events  of  his  life  and  often  needs  the  illumination 
which  those  events  throw  upon  it.  On  the  whole,  his  was 
a  disappointed  life,  and  the  note  of  bitterness  and  resent- 
ment is  a  familiar  one  in  his  writings.  Aside  from  his 
actual  physical  ills  and  personal  sorrows,  the  secret  of  his 
pessimism  is  probably  to  be  found  in  his  proud  and  imperi- 
ous temper.  He  was  conscious  of  immense  powers,  he  felt 
a  half  contempt  for  some  of  the  greatest  men  of  his  time 
even  while  he  was  compelled  to  court  their  favor ;  and  it 
was  only  natural  that  such  a  spirit  should  scorn  a  patron- 
age that  often  seemed  Hke  unwilling  charity  and  should 
bitterly  resent  an  ingratitude  that  bhghted  his  ambitious 
dreams.  His  pessimism  grew  into  a  gigantic  contempt  for 
the  whole  despicable  race  of  men.  His  personal  grievances 
were  magnified  until  they  distorted  for  him  the  true  pro- 
portions of  human  life.  His  own  diseased  eye  discolored 
his  vision  of  the  world.  The  literary  weapon  that  he  knew 
so  well  how  to  wield  became  an  instrument  of  fierce  and 
scornful  vengeance.     He  carried  satire  to  the  extreme  of 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  201 

coarse  vituperation,  and  even  penned  some  of  the  most 
disgusting  passages  in  English.  His  clerical  robes  seemed 
to  be  forgotten  as  he  waded  in  the  mire.  Apparently,  he 
had  no  conscience  about  wounding  the  sensibilities  of 
others  or  about  contaminating  his  own  mind.  Such  de- 
scription may  seem  exaggerated,  but  it  is  not  too  strong  to 
present  one  side  of  Swift's  nature.  Yet  we  must  remem- 
ber that  it  is  only  one  side  —  the  side  on  which  he  was 
most  faulty  and  most  human.  There  were  nobler  and 
more  generous  phases  of  his  character ;  and  these,  too, 
find  frequent  expression  in  his  literary  works  as  well  as  in 
the  acts  of  his  life.  What  Swift  might  have  been  as  a 
happy,  successful,  prosperous,  courted,  and  abundantly 
honored  man,  the  brief  period  of  his  political  career  gives 
us  some  opportunity  to  conjecture.  It  is  just  possible  that, 
lacking  the  spur,  he  might  not  have  run  the  race.  It 
seems  more  probable  that  his  love  of  applause,  his  spirit 
of  emulation,  his  proud  consciousness  of  his  own  masterful 
powers,  would  themselves  have  been  a  sufficient  stimulus, 
and  that  the  world  would  have  been  the  gainer  by  a  liter- 
ary product  not  less  powerful  and  much  more  genial  and 
humane.  Such  Swift  might  have  been.  What  he  was  and 
did  is  part  of  England's  literary  history,  and  the  nature  of 
that  record  some  consideration  of  his  literary  work  will 
give  us  further  opportunity  to  see. 

His  first  important  production,  The  Battle  of  the  Books, 
was  written  during  the  time  of  his  service  with  Sir  William 
Temple;  and  it  connects  itself  with  a  famous  g^tti^  ^^  j^^ 
controversy,  in  which  Temple  was  engaged,  ^"•'^ 
over  the  comparative  merits  of  ancient  and  modern  liter- 
ature. Swift,  like  Temple,  was  on  the  side  of  the  ancients. 
The  work  portrays,  in  characteristically  vivid  and  vigorous 
fashion,  an  imaginary  battle  between  tiie  ancient  and  the 
modern  books  in  Si.  James's  Library.  Here  Swift  dis- 
plays   his   wide    range    of    learning    and    his    remarkable 


202  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

powers  in  allegory  and  in  satire.  The  famous  phrase 
"  sweetness  and  light  "  is  found  in  this  work. 

His  Tale  of  a  Tub,  written  at  about  the  same  time,  is 
also  an  allegorical  satire.  It  deals  with  religion,  repre- 
A  Tale  of  a  senting  Romanism  by  Peter,  Lutheranism  and 
Tub  Anglicanism  by  Martin,  and  Calvinism  by  Jack. 

These  characters  were,  of  course,  suggested  by  St.  Peter, 
Martin  Luther,  and  John  Calvin.  They  are  represented 
as  three  brothers  who  quarrelled  over  their  inheritance. 
The  work  has  an  air  of  irreverence,  though  Swift  probably 
meant  no  disrespect  to  true  religion.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
this  book  that  is  said  to  have  lost  him  his  bishopric.  On 
the  literary  side.  Swift  here  appears  as  a  supreme  master 
of  irony.  No  wonder  that  the  .politicians  of  his  day  both 
feared  and  courted  a  man  who  could  wield  so  terrible 
a  weapon.  They  perceived,  too,  that  he  commanded  the 
most  finished  and  powerful  prose  style  that  had  yet  been 
written  in  English. 

During  the  years  immediately  following,  Swift  dis- 
played his  great  abilities  in  a  number  of  minor  papers 
Papers  and  ^'^^  pamphlets.  His  rather  cruel  humor  is  well 
Pamphlets  illustrated  by  a  huge  practical  joke  perpetrated 
upon  one  Partridge,  a  professed  astrologer  and  the  pub- 
lisher of  a  popular  almanac.  Swift  wrote  a  prediction  that 
Partridge  would  die  on  a  certain  day.  After  the  day  had 
passed,  he  published  a  circumstantial  account  of  Par- 
tridge's death,  and  solemnly  maintained  the  joke  against 
the  vigorous  protests  of  the  unhappy  victim.  In  the  same 
jesting  spirit  he  wrote  an  ironical  Argument  against 
Abolishing  Christianity,  urging  with  mock  seriousness 
that  after  all  Christianity  was  not  such  a  bad  thing  and 
ought  to  be  retained.  His  political  pamphlets  were  mas- 
terly examples  of  their  kind;  but  they  do  not  quite  keep 
their  interest  for  the  present  day  except  as  specimens  of 
Swift's  style. 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (i 700-1 740)  203 

During  this  period  he  wrote  his  iamous  Jounia/  to  Stella, 
a  series  of  letters  to  Esther  Johnson,  a  young  woman  whom 
he  had  first  met  in  the  household  of  Sir  William  Temple, 
and  who  maintained  for  him  a  lifelong  attach-  journal  to 
ment.  His  precise  relations  to  her  and  to  an-  steiia 
other  woman  known  as  "  Vanessa  "  are  little  understood. 
In  \.h&  Journal  Swift  "  unlocks  his  heart."  It  was  in  effect 
a  private  diary,  written  partly  in  cipher  and  never  intended 
for  publication  ;  and  its  revelations  are  of  the  most  inti- 
mate sort.  The  men  and  manners  of  his  time,  his  per- 
sonal daily  experiences  in  London,  are  graphically  described. 
His  vanity,  his  imperiousness,  his  ambition,  are  here;  but 
here,  also,  is  a  playful  tenderness  in  singular  contrast 
with  his  ordinary  fierce  and  contemptuous  attitude  toward 
the  world.  After  Swift's  death  there  was  found  among 
his  papers  a  little  package  with  the  inscription,  "only  a 
woman's  hair." 

The  more  generous  side  of  Swift's  nature  is  also  shown 
by  his  interest  in  the  Irish  people  and  by  his  literary  labors 
in  their  behalf.  An  excellent  illustration  is  found  in  The 
Drapiers  Letters.  The  English  government  had  Tj,e  Drapier's 
licensed  a  speculator  to  issue  debased  half-pence  Letters 
for  circulation  in  Ireland.  This  seemed  to  Swift  like  base 
and  contemptible  robbery  ;  and  he  poured  forth  all  the 
resources  of  his  sarcasm  in  a  successful  effort  to  defeat 
the  scheme.  His  financial  wisdom  in  the  matter  is  doubt- 
ful enough  ;  but  his  generous  championship  made  him  a 
popular  hero  in  Ireland.  A  later  brief  work  is  entitled  a 
Modest  Proposal  for  preventing  the  Children  of  Modest 
Poor  People  from  being  a  Burden.  The  "  mod-  Proposal 
esty "  of  the  proposal  may  be  judged  from  the  fact 
that  he  pretended  to  advocate  the  fattening  of  Irish  chil- 
dren for  the  English  market,  that  they  might  be  served  up 
as  delicacies  on  the  tables  of  the  rich.  No  work  better 
displays  .Swift's  almost  supernatural  gift  of  irony. 


204  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

The  most  famous  result  of  Swift's  literary  activity  is 
Gulliver's  his  GulHvers  Travels.  It  is  at  once  a  bitter 
Travels  satire,  a  parable  of  human  life,  and  a  series  of 

fascinating  romantic  stories.  Captain  Lemuel  Gulliver,  a 
bluff  and  honest  sailor,  undertakes  four  different  voyages, 
on  each  of  which  he  meets  with  marvelous  adventures. 
On  the  first  voyage,  he  is  shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  the 
Lilliputians,  a  people  averaging  some  six  inches 
in  height.  The  story  is  as  interesting  as  a 
child's  wonder-book ;  but  when  we  see  ordinary  human 
motives  reduced  to  this  diminutive  scale  and  read  of  the 
petty  Lilliputian  conflicts  over  politics  and  religion,  we 
become  aware  of  Swift's  satirical  intention.  He  makes 
his  kind  ridiculous  by  comparing  their  pompous  activities 
and  ambitions  with  those  of  an  ant-hill. 

Gulliver's  second  voyage  brings  him  to  Brobdingnag,  the 
land  of  giants  sixty  feet  in  height.  The  story  is  still  fasci- 
second  nating,  but  the  satire  is  reversed.     Gulliver  is 

Voyage  j^^^  himsclf  the  contemptible  figure ;  and  as  he 

tells  the  king  of  Brobdingnag  about  his  own  land  and 
people,  we  are  made  to  feel  the  incredulous  scorn  of  a  high 
and  generous  nature  for  beings  who  could  be  so  base  and 
despicable.  Actions  and  motives  to  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed in  human  society  are  here  looked  at  through  other 
eyes  and  from  a  nobler  point  of  view,  and  human  dignity 
shrinks  into  a  very  little  thing. 

The  third  voyage  is  less  interesting  as  a  mere  story, 
while  the  satire  becomes  more  prominent,  more  bitter,  and 
more  detailed.  In  Laputa,  the  flying  island,  we 
meet  with  a  race  of  mathematical  philosophers, 
lost  in  abstract  speculations.  At  the  academy  of  Lagado, 
wc  are  introduced  to  learned  men  who  spend  their  lives 
on  all  sorts  of  futile  projects,  such  as  trying  to  extract 
sunbeams  from  cucumbers.  Glubdubdrib  is  the  island 
of  sorcerers  or  magicians  ;  and  here  Gulliver  has   an  op- 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  205 

portunity  to  conjure  up  the  spirits  of  the  great  dead 
and  to  compare  them  with  the  degenerate  moderns.  In 
Luggnagg,  he  sees  the  Struldbrugs,  a  race  of  immortals 
grown  horrible  and  loathsome  in  their  immortality.  It  is 
to  this,  Swift  would  tell  us,  that  humanity  would  come  if 
death  did  not  mercifully  cut  it  off. 

The  most  terrible  satire  of  all  is  reser\^ed  for  the  last 
voyage.  Here  Gulliver  tells  of  the  Houyhnhnms,  a  gentle 
and  intelligent  race  of  horses  who  look  with  Fourth 
loathing  contempt  upon  the  Yahoos,  an  utterly  voyage 
debased  type  of  human  beings.  Gulliver  himself  is  merely 
tolerated  as  an  unusually  good  specimen  of  these  filthy 
and  degraded  animals.  It  is  with  an  almost  demoniac 
laughter  that  Swift  thus  heaps  scorn  and  contempt  upon 
the  race  to  which  he  belongs.  This  is  no  longer  a  child's 
story.  It  is  the  terrible  sarcasm  of  a  tremendous  genius 
made  mad  by  his  own  pride  and  rage  and  disappointment. 
Gulliver  s  Travels  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  fascinat- 
ing books  in  literature.     It  is  also  one  of  the  most  terribly 

Swift's  great  genius  is  strikingly  individual ;  his  work 
shows  the  movements  of  strong  passion  and  vivid  imagina- 
tion. Nevertheless,  it  is  in  its  own  way  typical  gwift  and  his 
of  the  classical  age.  It  is  so  in  its  prose  style  —  ^ge 
so  forcible  and  so  direct,  and  yet  so  clear  and  so  finished. 
It  is  so  in  its  realism  —  in  that  interest  in  contemporary 
life  and  contemporary  problems  which  the  classical  revolt 
from  romanticism  had  brought  with  it.  It  is  so  in  its 
intellectuality  ;  for  strong  as  passion  is  in  Swift's  work, 
passion  is  dominated  by  intelligence.  It  is  so  in  its  satire  ; 
for  literary  history  makes  very  clear  the  fact  that  satire 
and  Classicism  have  many  affinities.  Swift  was  too  vehe- 
ment a  spirit  to  be  unwillingly  bound  by  any  traditions  or 
any  conventions.  Yet  his  own  literary  faith  and  practice 
were  in  essential  harmony  with  those  of  his  generation. 

Jo.scph   Addison    affords  a   most  striking  contrast  with 


206  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

Swift  in  all  personal  and  in  most  literary  qualities.  The 
Joseph  distinguishing  mark  of  his  work  is  the  mark  of 

Addison  refined  elegance,  of  polite  amiability.  A  little 
cold  he  may  have  been,  not  altogether  genial,  perhaps  with  a 
slight  tinge  of  well-bred  malice,  but  always  the  easy  and 
courtly  gentleman.  Swift's  proud  and  aggressive  nature 
aroused  opposition  and  made  enemies ;  and  he  ended  in 
disappointment  and  despair.  Addison's  easy,  smiling  grace 
made  only  friends,  and  carried  him  very  far  on  the  road  of 
political  preferment  and  of  literary  honor.  Swift  longed 
for  a  bishopric  and  got  only  an  Irish  deanship.  Addison 
rose  to  be  Chief  Secretary  of  State  and  married  a  countess. 
Perhaps  no  man  ever  achieved  so  much  in  political  life  by 
virtue  of  merely  literary  abilities.  Nor  was  he  undeserv- 
ing of  his  honors.  His  character  was  pure,  finished, 
refined,  noble ;  and  these  qualities  have  put  their  stamp 
upon  all  his  literary  work. 

Addison  first  came  into  general  notice  by  means  of  a 
poem  on  the  battle  of  Blenheim,  entitled  TJie  Campaign. 
Poems  and  ^^  ^^^  "o  Special  aptitude  for  work  of  so  mar- 
Dramas  tial  a  character ;  but  his  literary  skill  was  equal 
to  the  task  imposed  upon  it,  and  he  succeeded  in  producing 
a  poem  which  became  extremely  popular.  It  was,  to  be 
sure,  written  at  a  time  when  good  poetry  was  the  greatest 
of  rarities,  and  when  any  tolerably  good  poetic  performance 
might  expect  to  be  received  with  admiration.  Its  pop- 
ularity was,  of  course,  largely  due  to  the  subject ;  for 
England  was  just  then  rejoicing  over  the  great  victory 
and  extravagantly  lauding  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough, 
the  general  whose  military  genius  had  won  it.  The  merit 
of  the  poem  consists  chiefly  in  one  fine  passage.  Of  his 
other  poems,  we  need  mention  only  his  hymns.  They  con- 
tain some  really  beautiful  poetry,  perhaps  a  little  artificial, 
but  nevertheless  sincere  and  imaginative.  Addison  was 
not  a  great  poet,  even  for  his  own  rather  unpoetical  day. 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (i 700-1 740)  207 

This  and  other  limitations  arc  apparent  in  his  dramatic 
work.  He  wrote  an  opera  called  Rosamund,  a  comedy 
called  The  Dnnnmii;  and  a  classical  tragedy  called  Cato. 
None  of  these  attained  a  genuine  dramatic  success.  Cato 
was  vastly  admired  in  its  own  day  ;  but  it  now  seems  cold, 
artificial,  and  lifeless.  Whatever  of  merit  the  dramas  have, 
is  the  result  of  skilful  literary  workmanship  rather  than  of 
true  dramatic  or  poetic  genius. 

Addison's  genius  was  essentially  that  of  the  prose- 
writer,  and  more  particularly  of  the  periodical  essayist. 
He  had  above  all  the  gift  of  prose  style.  Dr.  Addison-s 
Johnson,  in  the  ne.xt  generation,  characterized  Prose  Genius 
Addison's  style  as  "  familiar  but  not  coarse,  and  elegant  but 
not  ostentatious."  The  characterization  is  apt  and  suffi- 
cient ;  for  it  is  just  this  combination  of  ease  and  elegance 
which  still  seems  to  our  day  the  distinctive  quality  of 
Addison's  manner.  His  writing  is  like  the  intimate  but 
dignified  conversation  of  a  cultured  gentleman.  It  makes 
no  effort,  but  it  never  fails  of  its  desired  effect.  Beyond 
the  gift  of  mere  style,  Addison  had  other  important  qual- 
ities of  a  great  writer.  He  had  a  refined  wit  and  the 
power  of  delicate  satire.  He  had  keen  observation  of  life 
and  manners  and  the  ability  to  give  interest  and  charm  to 
the  treatment  of  subjects  associated  with  daily  experience. 
He  had  a  delicate  literary  taste,  and  a  critical  faculty,  acute 
if  not  profound,  just  if  not  strikingly  original.  Perhaps 
his  highest  literary  faculty  was  that  of  graphic  and  lightly 
satirical  portraiture  of  character.  All  of  these  qualities 
appear  in  his  periodical  essays,  which  constitute  with 
posterity  his  chief  claim  to  literary  fame.  These  essays 
were  written  in  association  with  Steele  ;  and  it  will  be  best 
to  reserve  the  closer  consideration  of  them  until  we  can 
consider  by  itself  the  work  which  the  two  men  did 
together. 

In  the  present  connection,  however,  it  is  well  to  note 


208  CLASSICISM  (1660-17S0) 

Addison's  character  as  a  moralist ;  for  in  all  his  work,  and 
in  his  periodical  essays  more  especially,  he  takes  the  atti- 
tude of  a  conscious  and  professed  moral  instructor.  He 
was  a  man  of  pure  life  and  of  religious  conviction,  and  he 
definitely  set  before  himself  the  task  and  the  duty  of  help- 
ing to  improve  the  morals  and  the  manners  of  his  age. 
He  dealt  with  manners  on  the  side  of  morals  and  with 
morals  on  the  side  of  manners.  In  this  attitude,  as  well  as 
Addison  and  in  his  refined  and  polished  style,  he  was  work- 
hisAge  jj^g   jj^  conscious  or  unconscious  harmony  with 

the  classical  spirit  of  his  time.  His  satire,  too,  less  fero- 
cious and  more  urbane  than  that  of  Swift,  distinctly  marks 
his  classical  temper.  Other  evidence  in  the  same  direction 
is  afforded  by  his  interest  in  contemporary  life  and  by  the 
realism  of  his  well-known  portrayals  of  contemporary  types 
of  character. 

The  personality  of  Richard  Steele  is  more  complicated 
and  much  less  easy  to  define.  He  was  a  scholar,  he  was 
a  gentleman,  he  was  a  literary  genius,  he  was  a  good  and 
generous  soul,  but  he  was  also  somewhat  of  a  vagabond. 
The  type  has  not  been  an  uncommon  one  in  the  realm  of 
Sir  Richard  literature  and  art,  and  is  perhaps  best  described  by 
Steele  the  word  "  Bohemian."     Full  of  faults,  fitful  and 

erratic,  Steele  was  yet  one  of  the  most  lovable  personal- 
ities of  his  age.  He  left  the  University  without  his  degree, 
went  into  the  army,  and  rose  to  the  rank  of  captain. 
Entering  politics,  he  became  a  member  of  Parliament,  and 
later  was  made  Sir  Richard.  He  made  two  wealthy 
marriages ;  but  his  spendthrift  habits  greatly  reduced  his 
fortune.  In  a  not  very  bad  sense  of  the  term,  he  was 
an  adventurer,  trying  many  things  and  failing  in  most. 
Among  other  roles,  he  adopts  in  his  writings  that  of  the 
preacher  of  morals  and  religion.  His  life  was  not 
altogether  consistent  with  such  professions,  and  he  was 
even  sneered  at  as  a  hypocrite;  but  all  that  we  know  of 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  209 

the  man  justifies  our  faith  in  his  genuine  if  somewhat 
faulty  sincerity.  Even  in  his  inconsistencies  there  is  a 
thoroughly  human  quality  which  adds  to  his  charm. 

Steele  made  his  first  literary  venture  while  he  was  still 
in  the  army  by  writing  a  book  of  devotion  which  he  called 
The  Chnstian  Hero.  From  this  path,  he  turned,  not  very 
consistently,  to  the  stage,  and  wrote  three  comedies,  The 
Funeral,  The  Lying  Lover,  3.\\d  The  Tender  Hus-  Steele's  lu- 
baniL  This  list  was  added  to  some  twenty  years  "^''y^'"^'' 
later  by  The  Conscious  Lovers.  Steele  has  an  interesting 
vein  of  genial  comedy  ;  but  there  is  looseness  in  his  plots 
as  well  as  in  his  morals.  Tenderness  and  good  humor  are 
his  best  qualities.  In  spite  of  some  real  success,  however, 
it  is  not  in  his  plays  that  Steele  attains  to  literary  excel- 
lence, but  rather  in  his  work  with  Addison  in  the  field  of 
the  periodical  essay.  That  was  his  true  forte,  and  there 
he  displayed  real  genius.  His  style  is  less  brilliant  than 
Addison's,  but  it  has  at  its  best  a  charming  air  of  careless 
ease  which  even  Addison  could  not  quite  match.  It  is 
rather  genial  than  elegant,  rather  natural  than  precise. 
Sometimes  he  becomes  dignified,  didactic,  or  argumenta- 
tive, but  this  manner  does  not  sit  so  easily  upon  him.  He 
shares  with  Addison  the  credit  for  skill  in  literary  portrai- 
ture, and  has  perhaps  claims  to  greater  originality.  What 
he  suggested,  Addison  elaborated  and  sustainecU  He  him- 
self is  very  generous  in  his  acknowledgment  of  indebtedness 
to  Addison  ;  but  Addison  probably  owes  to  him  something 
of  his  greater  reputation.  It  is  often  difficult  to  separate 
the  work  of  the  two,  and  i)erhaps  not  much  worth  the 
while  to  try. 

It  has  already  been  intimated  that  Addison  and  Steele 
worked  together  in  originating  and  in  bringing  to  its  per- 
fection the  literary  tyjje  known  as  the  periodical  jhe  Period- 
cssay.     The  beginning  seems  to  have  been  made  ''"'^wy 
by  Steele,  who  in    1709  started  a  periodical   known  as  The 


2IO  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

Tatler.  It  consisted  of  a  series  of  papers  or  essays  treat- 
ing various  subjects  associated  with  contemporary  life  and 
manners.  Addison  was  a  frequent  contributor,  and  in  this 
way  he  and  Steele  came  to  form  the  sort  of  literary  part- 
nership which  has  forever  associated  their  names  with  each 
other.  TJie  Tatler  was  rather  short-lived,  but  was  almost 
immediately  succeeded  by  TJic  Spectator.     This 

The  Spectator    .  .  -  , 

IS  the  most  famous  representative  or  a  large 
number  of  similar  periodicals  published  in  this  and  the 
next  generation,  and  may  serve  as  a  type  of  the  rest.  It 
was  published  at  first  on  every  week-day  and  after- 
ward three  times  a  week.  The  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  papers  were  by  many  hands,  but  the  great  majority  of 
them  Avere  written  by  either  Addison  or  Steele.  They 
are  on  a  great  variety  of  topics,  from  party  patches 
to  pin-money,  from  Westminster  Abbey  to  the  Royal  Ex- 
change, from  lovers  to  lawyers,  from  impudence  to  im- 
mortality, from  female  flirts  to  henpecked  husbands,  from 
literary  criticism  to  fox-hunting.  Many  of  them  deal  with 
the  vices  and  follies  of  the  time,  holding  them  up  to  mild 
ridicule  and  making  them  appear  as  violations  not  only 
of  good  morals  but  of  good  taste.  They  endeavor  to 
sweeten  morality  with  wit  and  to  temper  wit  with  morality. 
The  age  was  in  many  ways  coarse,  selfish,  and  frivolous ; 
and  it  was  the  aim  of  these  men  to  elevate  its  ideas,  to 
improve  its  manners,  and  to  better  its  moral  standards. 
They  were  preachers,  but  surely  the  most  engaging  and 
attractive  and  persuasive  preachers  that  one  can  well 
imagine.  They  set  up  no  impossible  ideals,  they  uttered 
no  fierce  denunciations ;  they  laughed  gayly  at  the  age 
and  made  it  laugh  at  itself ;  passing  "  from  grave  to  gay, 
from  lively  to  severe,"  they  accomplished  their  purpose  by 
brilliant  wit,  charming  good  nature,  vividness  of  fancy,  and 
elegance  of  style. 

The  greatest  achievement  associated  with  The  Spectator 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  211 

is  contained  in  the  so-called  Sir  Rogrr  t/r  Covcrlcy  Papers. 
In  the  introductory  paper  of  the  periodical,  Addison  had 
sketched  the  imaginary  portrait  of  the  supposed  TheDeCover- 
author  of  the  succeeding  essays,  whom  he  called  ley  Papers 
"  the  Spectator,"  and  had  alluded  to  a  certain  club  called 
the  Spectator  Club,  in  which  the  essays  were  to  be  discussed 
previous  to  their  publication.  Steele  took  up  this  idea  in 
the  second  paper,  and  presented  brief  but  graphic  charac- 
ter-sketches of  the  several  members  of  the  club  —  the 
Templar,  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  Captain  Sentry,  Will 
Honeycomb,  the  Clergyman,  and  most  important  of  all, 
the  good  Tory  Squire,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  These 
members  of  the  club  represent  respectively  the  law,  trade 
and  commerce,  the  army,  the  ladies,  the  church,  and  the 
country  interest ;  each  class  of  society  is  to  have  its 
spokesman,  so  that  none  shall  be  treated  unfairly.  In 
a  score  of  later  papers,  Steele's  genuine  creation  is  still 
further  elaborated.  We  see  Sir  Roger  at  the  club,  on  his 
country  estate,  among  his  servants  and  friends,  at  church, 
in  love,  on  the  hunting  field,  in  town,  at  the  theatre,  at 
Westminster  Abbey ;  and,  finally,  we  have  a  touching 
account  of  his  death.  Here  are  almost  all  the  ele- 
ments of  a  novel,  though  the  novel  is  not  yet  born. 
Lifelike  characters  and  interesting  incidents  are  here ; 
further  than  this,  the  novel  demands  only  a  definite  plot 
and  a  unified  picture  of  human  life.  In  the  power  of 
character-portrayal,  Addison  and  Steele  show  a  skill  which 
is  to  provide  the  novel  with  a  most  useful  lesson.  More- 
over, they  have  originated  a  new  type  in  literature,  the 
English  periodical  essay.  To  have  created  one  new  type 
and  to  have  partly  laid  the  foundations  for  another  is  no 
mean  achievement  for  an  age  which  we  commonly  think 
of  as  lacking  in  literary  originality.  When  we  add  to  this 
the  perfecting  of  i)rose  style  as  an  instrument  of  literary 
expression,  wc  shall  sec  that  literature  owes  much  to  the 


212  CLASSICISM   (1660-1780) 

early  eighteenth  century,  and  not  least  to  Addison  and 
Steele.  No  work  of  the  time  is  more  typical  in  all  of 
these  respects  than  the  series  of  essays  which  we  call  the 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers.  These  sketches  have  the 
classical  realism,  the  classical  finish  of  style,  the  classical 
conformity  to  good  taste  and  good  judgment,  the  clas- 
sical facility  in  satire,  the  classical  respect  for  recognized 
authority.  To  all  this,  they  add  the  flavor  of  something 
new  in  literary  art. 

Still  another  great  prose-writer  of  the  age  is  Daniel 
Defoe.  Defoe  began  his  literary  career  as  a  political 
pamphleteer,  and  in  this  field  he  was  second  only 
ame  e  oe  ^^  Swift.  One  of  his  best  productions  of  this 
sort  is  his  Shortest  Way  zvitk  the  Dissenters.  Though  a 
dissenter  himself,  he  wrote  in  the  tone  of  a  High  Church 
Tory,  advising  the  government  to  use  the  severest  meas- 
ures against  religious  nonconformists.  The  Tories  at  first 
took  his  suggestions  seriously  ;  and  when  they  discovered 
that  he  was  only  laughing  at  them,  they  set  him  in  the 
pillory,  where  he  received  a  popular  ovation.  The  irony 
of  this  work  is  very  near  akin  to  Defoe's  marvelous  gift 
of  minute  realism,  of  lending  to  his  most  extravagant 
fancies  a  deceptive  air  of  verisimilitude  —  a  gift  in  which 
he  is  even  Swift's  superior  and  in  which  he  has  probably 
never  had  an  equal.  This  is  nowhere  better  shown  than 
in  his  Journal  of  the  Plague  Year.  He  describes  the  great 
plague  of  London  in  1665  with  the  careful  fidelity  of  a 
simple  and  honest  eye-witness.  T\\q.  Journal  ^2iS  actually 
believed  to  have  been  written  by  such  a  man  ;  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  Defoe  was  only  a  young  child  when  the 
events  took  place.  This  same  gift  of  realism  is  still 
further  displayed  in  a  series  of  unique  romances,  of  which 
one  has  proved  to  be  a  great  masterpiece.  Captain  Single- 
ton, Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier,  Moll  Flanders,  Colonel  Jack, 
Roxana,   and  other  works  are  interesting  and  important 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700- 1740)  213 

contributions  to    our  early  fiction  ;  but   Robinson   Crusoe 
has  eclipsed  them  all. 

There  is  probably  no  romantic  fiction  in  the  world  that 
has  so  much  the  air  of  truth.  When  Robinson  Crusoe  was 
written,  there  was  nothing  more  to  learn  in  this  Robinson 
direction  in  preparation  for  the  modern  novel.  Crusoe 
All  the  powers  displayed  in  Defoe's  other  works  are  here 
gathered.  The  conception  of  a  man  cast  away  on  a  desert 
island  was  not  in  itself  a  great  invention ;  but  Defoe 
knew  how  to  devise  interesting  incidents,  to  give  a  natural 
atmosphere  and  a  local  color,  to  add  those  apparently 
trivial  touches  of  realistic  detail  which  make  us  feel  that 
all  this  must  have  happened  just  as  it  is  told.  The  style 
is  less  polished  than  that  of  Addison,  less  forcible  than 
that  of  Swift ;  but  it  is  wonderfully  well  adapted  to  its 
purpose  of  telling  a  simple,  straightforward,  yet  fascinating 
story.  The  relation  of  Robinson  Crusoe  to  the  beginnings 
of  the  novel  gives  it  an  added  interest.  Addison  and 
Steele  had  shown  the  way  in  the  portrayal  of  natural 
human  characters,  and  Defoe  marks  no  advance  in  this 
direction.  His  contribution  was  that  of  realistic  method. 
He  comes  nearer  also  to  having  a  plot  and  has  remarkable 
gifts  as  a  mere  story-teller  ;  but  in  this  particular  he  does 
not  go  beyond  Bunyan  and  Swift.  His  work  fails  of  being 
a  novel  because  the  incidents  are  simply  strung  on  the 
career  of  a  single  character.  A  little  more  unity  in  plot, 
a  little  more  fulness  in  the  treatment  of  character-relations, 
and  the  novel  will  exist.  The  necessary  step  was  a  short 
one,  though  of  vast  importance.  Defoe  was  not  to  take 
that  step;  but  he,  more  than  any  other  man,  pointed  out 
the  way  to  those  who  were  to  take  it  in  the  next  gener- 
ation. 

The  age  was  preeminently  one  of  great  prose  literature ; 
and  Swift,  Addison.  .Steele,  and  Defoe  are  only  the  great- 
est in  a  considerable  company  of  i)rose-writers.     Scliolars, 


214  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

divines,  philosophers,  and  politicians  were  all  contributing 
to  the  development  of  prose  and  displaying  in  one  way  or 
another  the  qualities  of  style  that  were  characteristic  of 
the  time.  They  do  not  call,  however,  for  special  considera- 
tion ;  for  none  of  them  produced  any  great  masterpiece  of 
imaginative  literature,  and  matters  of  style  are  sufficiently 
illustrated  by  the  authors  already  treated.  All  of  these 
Prose  and  authors  wrote  some  poetry  as  well  as  much 
Poetry  prosc  ;  but  none  of  it  is  of  very  great  merit. 

That  of  Addison  is  the  best,  and  Addison's  poetry  is  rather 
stiff  and  frigid.  Besides  these  there  was  a  large  group 
of  professed  poets,  nearly  all  of  decidedly  minor  rank. 
Matthew  Prior  was  a  writer  of  satirical  verse  tales  and 
light  love  songs,  and  enjoyed  in  his  day  a  considerable 
reputation  and  influence.  John  Gaj,  a  good-natured  and 
rather  vagabond  poet,  produced  satires,  burlesques,  and 
some  excellent  lyrics.  James  Thomson  and  Edward  Young 
continued  their  work  into  the  next  period,  and  may  best 
be  considered  in  company  with  the  later  poets.  It  re- 
mains only  to  dwell  upon  the  work  and  genius  of  the  one 
shining  poetic  figure  of  the  age  —  Alexander  Pope. 


Pope  is  preeminently  the  poet  of  Classicism.  His  influ- 
ence distinctly  served  to  exalt  authority  in  literature  rather 
Alexander  than  Originality.  In  his  poetry,  the  real  is  em- 
Pope  phasized  rather  than  the  ideal.  He  valued  form 
more  than  substance,  and  followed  reason  rather  than 
imagination.  His  style  seeks  always  the  classical  regu- 
larity, correctness,  and  finish  in  expression.  On  another 
side,  we  see  him  dealing  with  nature  chiefly  as  an  acces- 
sory and  a  background.  His  subjects  are  drawn  mainly 
from  abstract  thought  or  from  contemporary  society.  He 
is  artificial  and  stilted  in  diction,  and  becomes  a  genuine 
poet  only  by  virtue  of  a  remarkable  aptitude  for  his  chosen 
tasks  and  a  superb  literary  workmanship.  That  he  is  a 
genuine  poet  —  in  his  own  way  and  within  his  own  range 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  215 

—  may  be  safely  maintained,  even  against  much  insinua- 
tion to  the  contrary. 

The  harmony  of  Pope's  genius  with  the  tendencies  of 
his  age  gives  him  a  unique  position  in  the  historical  devel- 
opment of  English  poetry^  He  occupied  in  his  pop^inijis 
time  a  position  somewhat  similar  to  that  which  Age 
Dryden  occupied  in  the  Age  of  the  Restoration.  He  was 
not  so  unquestionably  the  greatest  literary  genius  of  his 
time,  for  that  position  belongs  rather  to  Jonathan  Swift ; 
but  he  at  least  shared  with  Swift  and  Addison  the  literary 
primacy,  and  in  the  field  of  poetry  his  influence  was  su- 
preme. He  may  not  unfairly  be  regarded  as  the  central 
literary  figure  of  his  day,  especially  in  those  long  periods 
when  Swift  was  absent  in  Ireland.  He  was  classical,  not 
alone  by  native  genius  and  by  the  influence  of  the  age,  but 
by  deliberate  training  and  practice.  In  his  early  years, 
he  fell  under  the  influence  of  eminent  literary  men  who 
discerned  and  encouraged  his  natural  gifts.  This  same 
influence  he  in  turn  exerted  upon  both  the  poets  and  the 
prose-writers  who  were  his  contemporaries.  He  enjoyed 
throughout  his  life  the  acquaintance  and  in  many  cases  the 
friendship  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  his  time,  both  liter- 
ary and  non-literary.  His  interest  in  all  literary  movements 
was  continually  alert  and  intense.  The  peculiarity  of  his 
position  as  almost  the  only  great  poet  in  a  generation  of 
great  prose-writers  probably  served  to  increase  his  rcjHita- 
tion  and  to  confirm  his  influence.  It  probably  modified 
and  limited  that  influence  in  some  ways;  but  it  also  made 
it  more  definite  and  apparent.  It  certainly  served  to  de- 
fine more  clearly  his  personal  genius  and  to  emphasize  his 
poetical  eminence. 

Pope's  power  was  manifested  almost  exclusively  in  poet- 
ical work,  and  yet  his  genius  had  in  it  a  large  pope-gLUni- 
prosaic  element.     1  lis  limitations  were  .scarcely  tatiom 
less  marked  than    his   unthjubted  abilities,      lie   failed    in 


2l6  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

appreciation  of  the  higher  forms  of  beauty  ;  he  was  deficient 
in  spontaneity  and  intensity ;  he  lacked  force  and  passion  ; 
he  had  Httle  dramatic  power  on  the  one  hand  and  Httle 
love  for  nature  on  the  other ;  he  was  almost  incapable  of 
grandeur  or  sublimity ;  he  atteiyipted  no  flights  of  lofty  or 
splendid  imagination;  he  was  decidedly  limited  in  his 
range  of  subjects,  of  ideas,  and  of  poetic  methods.  Such 
limitations  as  these  seem  almost  if  not  quite  fatal  to  great 
poetry;  but  in  spite  of  all  limitations  that  can  justly  be 
made,  the  fact  still  remains  that  Pope  was  a  poet  of  really 
high  rank.  He  reached  this  goal  by  virtue  of  superb  tal- 
ent and  training.  For  once,  at  least,  a  poet  was  made 
rather  than  born.  He  had,  of  course,  many  positive  gifts 
Pope's  ^^^^  helped  to  make  good  the  deficiencies  that 

Genius  have  been  noted.     Foremost  among  these  was 

his  exquisite  sense  for  finish  and  beauty  of  expression. 
His  poems  display  refinement  of  style,  perfection  of  metre, 
harmony  and  proportion  of  artistic  structure.  His  natural 
taste  and  his  acquired  training  enabled  him  to  give  to  his 
poetry  all  the  advantages  that  careful  art  and  well-directed 
effort  could  supply.  In  form,  he  is  characterized  by  clear- 
ness and  grace  and  fluency.  Beyond  the  mere  matter  of 
form,  he  has  also  many  positive  and  admirable  qualities. 
His  imagination  may  be  lacking  in  the  highest  and  noblest 
attributes,  but  it  at  least  possesses  in  no  common  degree 
the  virtues  of  lucidity  and  precision.  The  vividness  and 
brilliancy  of  his  pictures  can  hardly  be  surpassed.  The 
sprightliness  and  versatility  of  his  fancy  Hght  up  many  a 
fine  passage  and  play  over  the  surface  of  all  his  work. 
He  possessed  a  keen  and  active  mind,  and  seemed  always 
intellectually  alert.  His  sparkhng  and  incisive  wit  made 
him  one  of  the  greatest  of  satirists.  He  was  less  just  than 
Dryden,  less  powerful  than  Swift,  less  amiable  than  Addi- 
son—  often  bitter,  often  personal,  often  cruel;  but  his 
rapier  blade  was  as  swift  as  lightning  and  as  sharp  as  a 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE  (1700-1740)  217 

needle.  Not  seldom  it  had  a  drop  of  venom  upon  the 
point.  There  are  in  Pope  faint  glimmerings  of  a  love  for 
nature  and  even  for  the  romantic.  His  sensitive  tempera- 
ment felt  already  the  coming  of  influences  that  were  to 
shape  and  change  poetry  after  his  death  ;  but  in  the  main 
his  interests  were  those  of  a  classical  age,  and  his  influ- 
ence was  almost  exclusively  in  classical  directions.  He  is 
the  most  striking  example  in  English  literature  of 
what  can  be  achieved  in  poetry  by  literary  skill  and 
adaptability  coupled  with  literary  knowledge  and  dis- 
cipline. 

Perhaps  the  most  instructive  classification  of  Pope's 
works  is  that  which  is  based  on  their  subject-matter.  One 
of  the  earliest  of  his  great  poems  was  the  Essay  on  Criti- 
cisvi.  It  has  no  great  critical  originality,  and  the  Literary 
subject  is  not  an  especially  fortunate  one  for  Cnticism 
poetical  purposes  ;  but  Pope's  literary  skill  was  equal  to 
the  production  from  even  such  material  of  a  work  which 
really  deserves  the  name  of  a  true  poem.  As  a  brilliant 
statement  in  pointed  and  epigrammatic  verse  of  the  essen- 
tial principles  of  Classicisim  in  literary  art,  it  comes  near 
to  perfection.  Better  than  any  other  of  his  works,  it  illus- 
trates Pope's  interest  in  the  subject  of  literary  criticism  and 
his  delight  in  the  discussion  of  literary  questions. 

He  is  interested  also,  Hke  the  great  prose-writers,  in  the 
life  and  society  of  his  age.  Out  of  this  interest  grew  The 
Rape  of  the  Lock.  It  is  one  of  the  most  e.xqui-  Life  and 
site  productions  of  light  satiric  fancy  that  has  society 
ever  been  penned.  The  gay  belles,  the  frivolous  courtiers, 
the  fairy  sylphs  who  guard  the  adornments  of  beauty,  the 
stealing  of  the  lock  of  hair  by  the  fond  swain,  the  terrible 
indignation  and  commotion,  the  efforts  to  appease  the 
wrath  and  dry  the  tears  of  the  despoiled  lady  —  all  make 
up  a  picture  which  charms  the  fancy,  which  appeals  to  the 
sense  of  humor,  and   which  reflects  as  in  a  magic  mirror 


2l8  CLASSICISM   (1660-1780) 

the  fashionable  society  that  gathered  about  the  court  of 
Queen  Anne. 

Pope's  shght  tendency  toward  romanticism  is  seen  in 
Romance  and  his  imitations  of  Chaucer  and  in  his  Eloisa  and 
Nature  Abclard.     His    limited    and  somewhat    conven- 

tional interest  in  nature  appears  in  his  Windsor  Forest. 
These,  however,  were  but  subordinate  and  transient  phases 
of  his  genius.  Much  more  characteristic  both  of  the  man 
and  the  age  was  his  interest  in  the  ancient  classics.  Pope 
was  by  no  means  a  good  Greek  scholar;  yet  several  of  his 
best  years  near  the  middle  period  of  his  life  were  devoted 
to  the  translation  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  of  Homer. 
Classical  ^^^  former  was  the  more  successful  of  the  two, 
Translation  and  has  always  held  its  place  as  one  of  the  not- 
able poems  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Though  it  does 
not  reproduce  either  the  sense  or  the  spirit  of  Homer,  it  is 
in  many  ways  a  remarkable  achievement.  It  is  the  aston- 
ishingly clever  and  finished  production  of  a  superb  literary 
craftsman  rather  than  the  work  of  a  scholar  or  of  a  born 
poet.  Perhaps  nowhere  does  Pope  display  to  better  advan- 
tage his  consummate  mastery  of  versification  and  expres- 
sion. 

Nothing  is  more  characteristic  of  Pope's  peculiar  genius 
than  his  skill  as  a  satirist.  This  satirical  power  is  mani- 
fested almost  everywhere  in  his  original  work  ;  but  it  is 
especially  represented  by  the  Diinciad,  or  epic 
of  the  dunces.  •  This  is  an  extended  satire  on 
the  prominent  men  of  the  age  who  had  had  the  misfortune 
to  incur  the  poet's  dislike.  Some  were  mere  pedants,  but 
others  were  genuine  scholars ;  some  were  poor  scribblers, 
but  others  were  among  the  best  men  and  writers  of  the 
day.  All  were  alike  to  Pope,  if  he  had  any  grudge  to  pay. 
It  is  this  personal  bitterness  that  sets  the  most  decided  limi- 
tations to  the  greatness  of  the  work,  and  prevents  it  from  ris- 
ing to  that  largeness  of  view  and  that  broadly  human  quality 


THE  AGE  OF  POPE   (1700-1740)  219 

which  exalt  keen  satire  into  universal  literature.  The  Duti- 
ciad  is  in  some  respects  Pope's  masterpiece,  his  most  typical 
and  representative  work ;  but  to  the  impartial  reader  of 
another  age,  it  must  yield  the  palm  for  perennial  interest 
to  The  Rape  of  the  Lock.  The  latter  is  as  light  as  a  bubble 
floating  in  the  air;  but  its  iridescent  beauty  is  as  imper- 
ishable as  the  diamond,  because  its  transient  and  insignificant 
theme  has  been  Hfted  above  the  interests  of  a  day  or  a  class 
and  has  been  immortalized  by  the  idealizing  power  of 
the  poetic  imagination.  Pope  wrote  many  shorter  sat- 
ires, of  which  the  Epistle  to  Dr.  ArbntJinot  perhaps  gives 
the  finest  e.xample  of  his  concentrated  power.  It  is  here 
that  he  satirizes  and  at  the  same  time  praises  Addison 
under  the  name  of  Atticus. 

Pope's  last  great  interest  was  that  in  philosophical 
speculation.  His  typical  poems  in  this  direction  are  his 
Moral  Epistles  and  his  Essay  on  Man.  Tlie  Moral 
latter  ranks  among  his  masterpieces.  It  is  not  Pwiosophy 
great  or  original  philosophy,  nor  did  Pope  have  the 
power  of  a  strong  philosophical  thinker.  It  is  hardly  to 
be  called,  as  a  whole,  a  great  poem  ;  but  as  a  series  of  fine 
passages,  as  a  collection  of  pointed  aphorisms,  all  connected 
with  the  central  theme,  it  is  unsurpassed  among  Pope's 
writings.  Scarcely  anything  that  he  has  done  is  more 
characteristic  of  the  man  or  of  his  age. 

Any  discussion  of  Pope  as  a  poet  would  certain  1)'  be 
incomplete  without  some  mention  of  his  mastery  of  the 
heroic  couplet.  This  form  —  iambic  pentameter  ^he  Heroic 
lines  rhymed  in  pairs  —  was  the  favorite  of  the  Coupiet 
classical  school  of  j^octs,  and  for  a  time  seemed  to  have 
the  field  almost  to  itself.  Pope  polished  and  refined  the 
couplet  to  the  last  degree,  and  in  his  hands  it  became  an 
almost  perfect  in.strument  for  the  expression  of  |)ointed 
aj>horism  and  brilliant  wit.  It  was  the  use  of  lliis  instru- 
ment that  enabled  Pope  to  display  to  the  best  advantage 


220  CLASSICISM  (1660-17S0) 

his  naturally  fine  gift  for  terse  and  epigrammatic  utterance. 
No  English  poet,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Shake- 
speare, has  said  more  quotable  and  rememberable  things. 
Such,  for  instance,  are  the  following  : 

Honour  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies. 

Eternal  smiles  his  emptiness  betray, 

As  shallow  streams  run  dimpling  all  the  way. 

A  consideration  of  Pope's  poetry  helps  to  confirm  and  to 
explain  our  sense  of  his  almost  unlimited  influence  in  his 
Pope's  own  day.     Perhaps   it  will  also  help  us  to  un- 

influence  dcrstaud  why  that  influence  was  so  short-lived. 
His  direct  influence,  at  least,  was  very  brief ;  for  in  him 
Classicism  reached  its  culmination,  and  reaction  set  in  even 
before  his  own  death.  Yet  indirectly  his  influence  has  been 
felt  even  down  to  our  own  time.  Later  poets,  greater 
in  passion  and  in  originality,  have  learned  from  him  the 
value  of  artistic  form.  This  influence  has,  of  course,  been 
greatly  modified  by  later  movements  ;  but  properly  sub- 
ordinated to  real  poetic  genius,  it  has  constituted  an 
invaluable  legacy  to  Enghsh  literature. 


Pope's  Villa  at  Twickenham 

From  an  old  print 


dUJWA\    y(i\>A\Juv\. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE   AGE  OF  JOHNSON    (1740-1780) 

From  a  consicleratioii  of  the  literary  achievement  of  the 
Age  of  Dryden  and  the  Age  of  Pope,  it  ought  to  be  suffi- 
ciently clear  that  Classicism  was  a  living  movement,  arising 
naturally  by  reaction  from  an  exhausted  Romanticism,  find- 
ing a  proper  place  in  the  development  of  English  life  and 
thought,  fulfilling  a  great  mission  and  leaving  behind  it 
great  results.  The  hopes  and  expectations  of  its  promoters 
were  high  and  sanguine,  and  they  were  in  fair  measure 
realized,  although  its  literary  product  has  not  quite  main- 
tained the  right  to  stand  in  the  highest  rank.  Dryden  and 
Pope  were  its  great  poets,  and  a  company  of  great  prose- 
writers  helped  to  swell  the  large  sum  of  its  achievements. 
Yet  Classicism  ran  but  a  comparatively  brief  career. 
Much  as  it  really  accomplished  for  English  literature,  it 
was  by  the  very  nature  of  the  English  character  and 
genius  destined  to  inferiority,  sure  sooner  or  later  to  be 
challenged  and  overthrown  by  other  forces.  The  time  for 
the  challenge  had  now  come,  but  not  quite  yet  the  time  for 
the  overthrow.  Romanticism  had  prevailed  in  one  form 
or  another  from  the  Norman  Conquest  to  the  Age  of 
Dryden  ;  and  after  the  Age  of  Pope,  it  was  soon  to  make 
itself  felt  again.  Even  before  the  death  of  Pope,  this  and 
other  new  tendencies  had  begun  to  dispute  with  the  old 
for  the  literary  mastery.  Yet  the  battle  was  not  to  be 
easily  won.  The  influence  of  Classicism  did  not  continuance 
cease  in  a  moment;  and  for  at  least  another  °"''''*'"'^'"" 
generation    we    must     note   the   continuance    of    classical 

331 


222  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

tendencies.  Indeed,  it  was  not  until  near  the  close 
of  the  eighteenth  century  that  the  conflict  can  be  said 
to  have  been  fully  decided.  Nowhere  in  the  literature 
have  we  better  illustration  of  the  fact  that  literary  periods 
overlap  each  other,  that  old  influences  persist  with  gradu- 
ally diminishing  force,  while  newer  tendencies  are  gather- 
ing the  strength  and  momentum  that  are  finally  to  make 
them  prevail.  In  this  case,  the  period  of  transition  was  a 
comparatively  long  one,  and  the  struggle  between  the  old 
and  the  new  was  unusually  severe.  In  view  of  the  fact  that 
the  classical  type  of  literature  survived  throughout  the 
period  now  under  survey,  it  seems  proper  to  speak  of  the 
period  as  a  classical  one  and  to  designate  it  by  the  name 
of  Samuel  Johnson,  the  great  classical  figure  of  the  age. 
In  more  precise  terms,  it  was  a  period  of  transition  and  of 
conflict  during  which  Classicism  asserted  itself  with  ever 
decreasing  power  against  the  newer  movements. 

It  probably  did  not  yet  appear  to  the  men  of  that  gen- 
eration what  were  really  the  tendencies  by  which  they 
were  being  swept  onward.  Some  things  they  saw  clearly 
enough  ;  and  still  others  are  apparent  to  us  as  we  study 
their  work  to-day,  although  it  is  not  yet  certain  that  we 
have  reached  a  final  interpretation  of  the  age.  It  is  clear 
that  there  was  a  definite,  emphatic,   and   con- 

Revolt  .  .  . 

against  cias-  scious  rcvolt  against  the  authority  of  Classicism 
—  a  revolt  continually  growing  in  force  and 
effectiveness.  This,  however,  is  merely  negative  ;  and  it 
is  more  important  to  ask  what  was  the  nature  of  the  new 
impulses  which  reenforced  the  revolt  against  Classicism 
and  which  brought  a  fresh  and  more  original  spirit  into 
literature. 

It  has  been  common  to  call  the  new  movement  a  revival 
of  Romanticism  and  to  attribute  the  various  phenomena  of 
literature  to  a  romantic  reaction  struggling  to  make  head- 
way against  classical  tradition.     That  there  was  a  roman- 


THE   AGE   OF   JOHNSON    (1740- 1780)  223 

tic  movement  is  beyond  question.  It  was  probably  more 
striking  and  more  productive  than  any  other  ;  and  we  shall 
see  its  influence  manifested  in  many  ways.  The  chief 
doubt  is  whether  this  interpretation  is  sufficiently  deep  and 
comprehensive  to  account  for  all  the  tendencies  that  litera- 
ture presents  to  us  in  the  age.  Incidentally,  the  question 
may  be  raised  whether  the  romantic  movement  is  properly 
to  be  called  a  mere  "  revival."  No  doubt  there  was  much 
imitation  of  Elizabethan  poets,  much  drawing  of  water 
from  the  wells  of  mediaeval  romance.  The  new  Romanti- 
cism, however,  was  in  spirit  something  very  dif-  The  New 
ferent  from  that  of  the  Age  of  Shakespeare  or  ^°^^"^<^^^^ 
from  that  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Romanticism  of  Shake- 
speare's day,  for  instance,  had  its  sources  in  the  spirit  of 
wonder  and  enthusiasm  created  by  the  Renaissance.  In 
that  great  awakening  of  the  human  mind,  imagination  was 
aroused  to  a  tremendous  activity,  and  men  felt  that  the 
wildest  dreams  were  justified  by  the  boundless  possibilities 
opening  up  before  the  human  race.  The  -eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  no  such  age  of  divine  illusions,  and  its  Romanti- 
cism is  not  to  be  accounted  for  in  any  such  way.  Other 
and  original  forces  were  at  work ;  and  any  imitation  of  the 
past  that  may  have  characterized  the  writers  of  this  later 
time  was  but  a  temporary  expedient  until  the  new  spirit 
should  have  found  its  own  way  and  wrought  out  its  own 
modes  of  utterance.  Moreover,  even  when  the  outward 
form  was  an  imitation,  the  inward  spirit  was  often  some- 
thing quite  new  and  original.  It  does  not  seem  sufficient, 
therefore,  simply  to  say  that  there  was  a  romantic  move- 
ment, much  less  a  romantic  "  revival."  We  must  go  deeper, 
and  inquire  what  causes  were  then  existing  which  had 
power  to  create  the  type  of  Romanticism  peculiar  to 
the  eighteenth  century,  as  the  Renaissance  had  created 
the  type  of  Romanticism  peculiar  to  the  sixteenth 
century. 


224  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

Before  doing  so,  we  should  observe  that  Romanticism 
was  not  the  only  new  movement  of  the  age  and  therefore 
not  the  only  new  tendency  to  be  accounted  for.  It  is  im- 
portant that  we  should  note  the  other  movements,  in  order 
Five  Great  that  we  may  determine  whether  any  of  these 
Movements  fumishes  the  key  to  the  situation  or  whether  we 
must  look  for  some  underlying  cause  that  serves  to  account 
for  them  all.  Next  in  importance  to  Romanticism  was  the 
growing  love  for  nature  and  the  rise  of  a  school  of  natural- 
istic poets.  Both  of  these  movements  —  the  romantic  and 
the  naturaHstic  —  the  men  of  the  age  recognized.  They 
did  not,  perhaps,  so  clearly  perceive  the  growing  emotion- 
alism of  literature,  though  we  may  discover  this  tendency 
plainly  enough  in  such  works  as  the  novels  of  Richardson, 
Sterne's  Sentimental  Journey,  and  the  writings  of  the  so- 
called  "  sentimental  poets."  Still  another  tendency  clearer 
to  us  than  to  the  men  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  a  grow- 
ing recognition  of  the  worth  of  man  as  man  —  a  recogni- 
tion of  the  valucand  importance  of  ordinary  human  beings. 
This  tendency  we  may  venture  to  describe,  for  lack  of  a  bet- 
ter expression,  as  a  manifestation  of  the  democratic  spirit ; 
it  was  not  democracy,  but  it  was  one  of  the  fruitful  germs 
from  which  democracy  was  to  grow.  In  literature,  this 
spirit  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  modern  novel  and  appears 
very  distinctly  in  such  poetry  as  Gray's  Elegy  and  Gold- 
smith's Deserted  Village.  To  these  several  movements, 
we  may  add  the  very  noteworthy  and  important  religious 
revival.  Its  direct  influence  upon  literature  was  com- 
paratively small,  appearing  chiefly  in  such  poetry  as 
the  hymns  of  the  Wesleys,  Young's  Night  ThougJits, 
and  the  much  later  works  of  Cowper ;  but  its  influence 
on  English  life  was  powerful  and  extensive,  and  this 
must  have  affected  literature  in  many  indirect  but  effec- 
tive ways. 

These  five  movements  —  the  romantic,  the  naturalistic, 


THE   AGE    OF  JOHNSON    0740-17S0)  225 

the  emotional,  the  so-called  democratic,  and  the  religious  — 
are    curiously  intermingled  in  the  literature  of  Relations ^^ 
the  age;  but  it  does  not  quite  seem  as  though  these  uove- 

°  '  ments 

any  one  of  them  could  be  regarded  as  central 
and  fundamental  and  as  serving  to  account  for  the  others. 
Romanticism  does  not  account  for  naturalism,  or  natural- 
ism for  Romanticism.  Emotionalism  is  not  logically  con- 
nected with  either,  though  it  is  incidentally  associated  with 
both.  The  so-called  democratic  spirit  has  no  necessary 
association  with  the  romantic  tendency,  and  can  hardly  be 
said  to  account  for  naturalism  ;  it  was,  moreover,  the  least 
definite  and  conscious  of  these  movements  and  the  one 
that  seems  most  undeveloped  and  incidental.  Later,  it  was 
to  become  more  important;  but  as  yet  it  seems  to  find  its 
best  interpretation  in  something  beyond  itself.  Nor  does 
the  religious  movement  afford  a  clue  to  the  central  literary 
impulse  of  the  age.  Powerful  as  the  religious  movement 
was,  the  age  was  not  distinctively  a  religious  one,  and  the 
influence  of  religion  on  literature  was  decidedly  subordi- 
nate. 

Is  there,  then,  any  principle  which  gives  to  these  several 
tendencies  the  unity  of  a  single  great  literary  movement .'' 
As  we  consider  the  question,  it  becomes   reason- 

'  _  Interpretation 

ably  clear  that  the  newer  Romanticism  was  at  of  these 

,  .  ,  1    r  1  Movements 

bottom  a  passion  for  personal  freedom,  an  un- 
conscious striving  forward  toward  that  revolutionary  spirit 
which  was  to  make  itself  so  strongly  felt  during  the  later 
years  of  the  century.  It  was  not  so  much  an  impulse  to 
be  romantic  as  it  was  an  impulse  to  burst  the  bonds  of 
classic  restriction,  to  follow  the  instinct  of  individual  gen- 
ius, to  be  anything  and  everything  that  the  Age  of  Pope 
had  not  been.  Poetry  turned  to  the  study  of  nature  under 
much  the  same  imiJuLse.  There  was  no  great  passion  for 
nature  as  such  ;  but  there  was  a  strong  desire  to  get  away 
from  the  town,  to  escape  the  conventions  and  artificialities 


226  CLASSICISM     (1660-1780) 

of  life,  to  breathe  free  air,  to  be  one's  self  in  the  midst  of 
natural  surroundings.  Emotionalism,  likewise,  was  an  as- 
sertion of  freedom  for  personal  feeling.  The  writers  of 
the  age  did  not  feel  themselves  driven  to  the  inevitable 
utterance  of  passion  that  could  not  be  suppressed  ;  indeed, 
the  application  of  the  term  "sentimental"  to  some  of  the 
leading  poets  implies  a  forced  and  rather  self-conscious 
expression  of  emotion  as  a  sort  of  poetic  declaration  of 
independence.  The  sense  of  the  worth  of  the  common 
man  finds  in  this  same  spirit  of  personal  freedom  its  bond 
of  union  with  the  other  great  tendencies  of  the  time. 
Personal  freedom  of  feeling  and  expression  for  all  men  in- 
volved sooner  or  later  the  recognition  of  the  personal  worth 
of  all  men.  Closely  allied  with  this  same  spirit  was  the 
religious  movement.  On  the  one  side,  it  was  a  vigorous 
protest  against  mere  conformity,  authority,  and  formahsm 
in  religion ;  on  the  other,  it  was  a  profound  sense  of  the 
eternal  worth  of  every  individual  soul,  because  for  that 
soul  Christ  had  died  and  God's  infinite  love  had  thereby 
been  made  manifest. 

In  a  word,  the  new  force  was  more  than  anything  else 

the  force  of  Individualism.     It  was  so  powerful  an  enemy 

of  Classicism  because   the  two  are  essentially 

Individualism  .  . 

opposite  in  their  nature.  Classicism  leads  to 
the  exaltation  of  authority,  of  conformity,  of  obedience  to 
rule;  IndividuaHsm  asserts  the  rights  of  personality  against 
tradition,  convention,  and  established  order.  If  Romanti- 
cism was  so  prominent  in  poetry,  it  is  because  Romanticism 
offered  the  readiest  poetic  way  for  the  assertion  of  In- 
dividualism. Even  imitation  of  mediaevalism  or  of  the 
Renaissance  was  in  the  nature  of  a  revolt,  because  it  was 
imitation  of  that  which  Classicism  had  assumed  to  condemn 
as  being  too  lawless  and  too  free.  In  prose,  the  novel,  with 
its  realistic  study  of  ordinary  men  and  women,  proved  to 
be  the  best  way  of    expressing    the    same  individualistic 


THE   AGE   OF  JOHNSON    (1740-1780)  227 

spirit.  Romantic  poem  and  realistic  novel  would  appear 
to  be  at  opposite  literary  extremes ;  but  we  have  here  the 
interesting  and  rather  curious  literary  phenomenon  of  two 
radically  different  results  proceeding  from  the  same  great 
principle  of  Individualism.  This  individualistic  impulse  is 
even  more  emphatically  apparent  in  the  historic  life  of  the 
age  than  it  is  in  literature  ;  for  literature  is  after  all  but  an 
incomplete  expression  of  life,  and  lays  most  emphasis  upon 
those  phases  of  life  which  are  best  suited  to  literary  utter- 
ance. Yet  even  in  literature  —  and  in  literature  outside  of 
the  novel  —  the  note  of  Individualism  is  clear.  As  early 
as  the  first  generation  of  the  century,  even  Pope  felt  the 
coming  of  the  new  spirit  suflRciently  to  say : 

An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God. 

At  the    end   of    the    century    there    rings    out,    with    the 

strength  of  full  conviction  and  of  poetic  fervor,  a   voice 

crying : 

A  man's  a  man,  for  a'  that. 

Between  these  two  positions  lies  the  Age  of  Johnson ; 
and  through  its  poetry  and  prose  we  may  trace  the  prog- 
ress of  the  individualistic  impulse,  from  the  first  faint  rec- 
ognition of  the  classical  Pope  to  the  strong  assertion  of 
the  democratic  Burns.  The  literary  history  of  the  period 
reflects  the  losing  struggle  of  a  confident  and  dominant 
Classicism  against  this  revolutionary  force  of  Individual- 
ism. That  new  force  does  not  gain  its  full  triumph  in 
the  present  period ;  but  it  attains  such  a  development 
as  to  make  it  the  ruling  impulse  of  the  age  which 
follows. 

The  first  aspect  of  the  new  movement  to  appear  prom- 
inently in   literature  was  the  poetic    treatment  of  nature. 
We   have  jjreviously    noted  that    Pope,    in  his  ;„„,«» 
Windsor  Forest,  had  made  a  faint  and  rather  con-   Thomson 
vcntional    beginning    in  this    direction ;   and  the  example 


228  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

had  not  been  without  its  influence  on  other  poets.  Long 
before  Pope  had  ceased  to  write,  James  Thomson  had 
pubhshed  his  Seasons,  the  poem  which  better  than  any 
other  marks  the  real  beginning  of  the  naturahstic  ten- 
dency. It  is  not  without  significance  that  Thomson  was 
a  Scotchman.  Already,  as  early  as  the  fifteenth  century, 
we  have  had  occasion  to  observe  the  love  for  nature 
appearing  in  Scotch  poetry,  when  that  of  England  was 
almost  devoid  of  any  such  inclination  ;  and  we  may  say 
further  that  Scotch  influence  upon  English  nature  poetry 
has  always  been  strongly  marked  and  was  particularly  so 
during  the  eighteenth  century.  The  Seasons  is  divided  into 
four  parts,  entitled  respectively  "  Spring,"  "  Summer," 
"Autumn,"  and  "Winter."  Thomson  treats  the  various 
aspects  of  the  year  with  much  poetic  feeling,  direct  observa- 
tion of  nature,  and  power  of  natural  description.  There  are 
a  stilted  utterance  and  a  tendency  to  abstract  moralizing 
which  betray  the  classical  influences  under  which  Thomson 
wrote ;  but  there  are  also  a  freshness  and  an  originality 
which  give  large  promise  of  what  is  to  come.  The  blank- 
verse  form  of  the  poem  is  not  the  least  of  its  manifestations 
of  a  new  literary  spirit.  Blank  verse  was  to  be  the  badge 
of  the  younger  school  of  poets  as  the  heroic  couplet  had 
been  the  badge  of  the  poets  of  the  classical  school.  Another 
noteworthy  poem  of  Thomson's  allies  him  closely  with 
the  beginnings  of  the  romantic  movement.  This  is  The 
Castle  of  Indolence,  a  professed  and  remarkably  successful 
imitation  of  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene.  He  uses  the  Spen- 
serian stanza  with  much  metrical  skill  and  catches  not 
a  little  of  Spenser's  poetic  and  romantic  quality.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  poem  is  an  imitation  in  the  matter  of 
form  and  quality,  it  is  sufficiently  original  in  idea  to  make 
it  a  real  contribution  to  English  poetry  as  well  as  to  the 
romantic  verse  of  the  period.  When  such  a  poem  had 
been  written,  the  romantic  movement  was  certainly  under 


THE   AGE  OK  JOHNSON    (i 740-1 7S0)  229 

full  headway.  It  is  sij^nificant  for  the  movement  also  that 
Thomson's  poem  was  only  one  of  a  large  number  of  Spen- 
serian imitations  by  many  writers. 

Edward  Young  was  rather  a  disciple  of  Milton  than 
of  Spenser ;  but  he  falls  far  short  of  Thomson's  genu- 
ine success  in  reproducing  the  tone  and  spirit  Edward 
of  his  master.  Certain  more  or  less  ineffec-  Young 
tual  tragedies,  satires,  and  didactic  poems  constitute  the 
larger  number  of  Young's  works  ;  but  his  one  really 
famous  poem  is  the  yig^it  Thoughts.  It  is  a  long 
didactic  poem  in  nine  books,  in  which  a  spirit  of  sen- 
timental melancholy  broods  over  the  vanity  of  human 
life,  the  consolations  of  religion,  and  the  gloom  of  death. 
The  rather  portentous  work  contains  a  good  deal  of  solemn 
rhetoric  and  not  a  little  noble  poetry.  Its  tone  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  age ;  for  the  romantic  spirit  was  in 
love  with  mystery  and  gloom,  and  the  growing  emo- 
tionalism was  inclined  to  indulge  itself  in  tender  and 
awful  sentiments.  Such  indulgence  was  one  of  the 
accepted  modes  of  revolt  against  the  common  sense 
and  the    commonplace  of  the  classical  period. 

The  influence  of  Milton  is  also  discernible  in  the  work 
of  William  Collins,  but  it  is  the  influence  of  Milton's  lyrics 
—  of  L' Allegro  and  //  Pcnscroso —  rather  than  of  his  great 
epics.  Here,  at  last,  pure  poetry  is  recovered  ;  for  the 
lyric  music  of  Collins  is  the  sweetest  and  most  wiuiam 
spontaneous  to  be  found  in  the  whole  extent 
of  the  classical  period  —  between  Milton  and  Burns.  The 
classic  note  is  still  heard,  as  notably  in  his  Ode  to  the 
Passions;  but  there  is  also  heard  something  that  is 
new  and  strange.  The  Ode  to  Evening  goes  beyond 
the  mere  natural  description  of  Thomson's  Seasons  and 
conveys  by  most  subtle  suggestion  the  feeling  of  the 
twilight  hour.  It  is  the  sentiment  of  nature  that  we 
catch  and  fix  as  we  read  such  words  as  these : 


230  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

And  hamlets  brown,  and  dim-discovered  spires  ; 
And  hears  their  simple  bell,  and  marks  o'er  all 

Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 

The  gradual  dusky  veil. 

The  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands 
of  Scotland  is  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  romantic 
love  for  the  mysterious,  the  supernatural,  the  legendary, 
and  the  fanciful;  and  it  connects  Collins  with  the  roman- 
tic movement  as  the  Ode  to  Evening  connects  him  with 
the  poetical  treatment  of  nature.  The  emotional  element 
in  his  poetry  associates  him  with  the  poets  whom  Classi- 
cism sneered  at  as  "  sentimental."  By  his  Ode  to  Liberty 
he  gains  at  least  an  indirect  association  with  the  so-called 
democratic  tendency.  He  is  thus  seen  to  be  in  touch  with 
nearly  all  the  great  movements  of  his  age,  and  he  fuses 
them  all  together  into  poetry  that  has  the  mark  of  a  pe- 
culiar individualism. 

Doubtless  the   greatest  poet  of   the   age   was    Thomas 

Gray.     Like    Collins,    he    feels    the   influence   of    Milton, 

and    more  especially   of    Milton's   lyric   poetry. 

Thomas  Gray    ^  ..         ^    ...  \  .,,  /  ^ 

Like  Colhns,  too,  he  illustrates  in  one  way 
or  another  the  various  influences  of  his  time.  The 
love  of  nature  permeates  most  of  his  poetry  and  per- 
haps still  more  his  remarkable  letters.  It  is  clearly  in 
evidence  in  his  Ode  on  the  Spring  and  his  Ode  on  a  Dis- 
tant Prospect  of  Eton  College.  The  romantic  movement 
is  perhaps  best  illustrated  by  his  Pindaric  ode,  TJie  Bard, 
in  which  an  ancient  Welsh  minstrel,  seated  on  a  crag  of 
the  mountains,  sings  in  prophetic  vision  the  doom  of  King 
Edward's  race.  His  best-known  work  is  the  Elegy  writ- 
ten in  a  Country  Churchyard.  Here  he  displays  his  love 
for  nature,  his  depth  of  sentiment,  and  that  sympathy 
with  common  men  which  we  have  called  democratic. 
Few  poems  in  the  language  have  been  better  known  or 
more  often  read.     Gray's  other  Pindaric  ode,    The  Prog- 


THE    AGE    OF   JOHNSON    (i  740-1 7S0)  23  I 

ress  of  Poesy,  finely  illustrates  the  union  in  him  of  Clas- 
sicism and  Individualism.  It  has  many  characteristics 
of  the  classical  manner ;  but  it  rises  to  a  higher  poetic 
quality  by  virtue  of  more  spontaneous  feeling,  more  vivid 
imagination,  and  greater  freedom  in  conception.  Much  the 
same  is  true  of  all  his  poetry.  It  unites  a  high  degree  of 
classical  refinement  and  art  with  many  of  the  qualities 
which  spring  from  the  work  of  spontaneous  genius  moving 
with  great  individual  freedom.  Gray  had  the  trained  skill 
of  a  careful  literary  workman,  but  he  also  had  the  genius  of 
a  born  poet.  His  was  a  really  important  personality  ;  but 
the  individualistic  qualities  in  his  work  did  not  exactly  arise 
from  the  vigorous  activity  of  a  masterful  and  uncontrollable 
nature.  Gray,  indeed,  was  far  from  being  a  man  of  that 
type.  In  him  and  in  the  other  poets  just  discussed,  the 
strong  individualistic  tone  was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  whole  age  was  in  revolt  and  was  encouraging  its  men 
of  genius  to  seek  and  to  follow  new  ways.  A  generation 
earlier,  probably  no  one  of  them  would  have  had  the  strength 
to  lead  the  new  movement.  Their  actual  originality  was 
due  even  more  to  the  age  than  to  themselves.  This  gave 
to  their  efforts  something  of  artificiality  and  self-conscious- 
ness ;  for  they  were  not  as  men  self-impelled  by  a  strong 
instinct,  but  rather  as  men  who  had  heard  and  deliberately 
answered  a  call. 

Such  a  condition  of  affairs  was  not  conducive  to  the  best 
and  fullest  work,  although  it  was  not  without  its  advan- 
tages to  men  of  limited  powers,      l^'or  Gray,  at 

°  '  -"  Influence  of 

least,  the  age  involved  repression  as  well  as  en-  theAgeon 
couragement.  He  has  generally  been  regarded  ^"^ 
as  a  poet  of  unusually  fine  genius  fallen  \\\Mm  a  time  which 
tended  to  check  and  to  deaden  his  poetic  imj)ulses.  This 
conception  of  the  man  is  probably  a  true  one  ;  and  it  is  not 
difficult  to  see  at  least  two  ways  in  which  the  age  may  have 
produced  this  effctt   upon  its  greatest  jioet.      In  the  first 


232  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

place,  it  was  still  in  very  large  measure  a  classical  age, 
while  Gray's  finest  poetic  instincts  were  more  imaginative 
and  emotional.  Strong  as  the  individualistic  tendencies 
of  the  age  were,  they  were  not  strong  enough  to  free  him 
from  the  sense  of  restraint  which  Classicism  imposed ; 
and  as  we  have  already  suggested,  the  native  force  of 
Gray's  personaHty  was  not  quite  adequate  to  such  a  revolt. 
Indeed,  Gray  was  by  nature  too  conscientious  an  artist  not 
to  feel  the  full  weight  of  the  critical  principles  with  which 
Classicism  sought  to  fetter  the  wings  of  genius.  In  the 
second  place,  the  age,  like  the  two  preceding  periods,  was 
essentially  prosaic  in  its  temper,  while  Gray's  gifts  were 
those  of  the  poet.  Feeling  the  chill  discouragement  of  an 
alien  atmosphere,  he  withdrew  into  himself  and  allowed 
the  world  to  hear  all  too  little  of  that  exquisite  music 
which  he  was  born  to  make.  He  contented  himself  with 
a  few  poems  classically  perfect  in  expression  and  giving 
evidence  of  a  genius  which  in  its  fullest  exercise  might 
have  placed  him  among  the  very  greatest  of  Enghsh  poets. 
As  it  is,  probably  no  English  poet  holds  so  high  a  place 
as  he  by  virtue  of  so  small  a  body  of  poetic  work. 

Certain  publications  of  the  time  must  be  considered  be- 
cause of  the  important  influence  which  they  exerted  on 
contemporary  literature  rather  than  because  they  them- 
selves possessed  any  great  degree  of  original  value.  In 
Percy's  ^7^S  Thomas  Percy  published  a  great  number 

ReUques  of  old  ballads  which  he  had  collected  and  edited. 
The  work  is  known  as  Percy's  Reliqiies  of  Ancient  English 
Poetry.  A  few  years  later,  he  translated  Mallet's  Northern 
Antiquities,  a  work  dealing  with  the  Norse  mythology. 
Both  of  these  appealed  very  strongly  to  those  who  were  in 
sympathy  with  the  anti-classical  spirit.  They  encouraged 
and  justified  the  new  romantic  movement,  and  provided 
materials  and  inspiration  for  the  romantic  poets.  Some- 
thing the  same  may  be  said  of  James  Macpherson's  pre- 


THE  AGE    OF   JOHNSON    (1740-1780)  233 

tended  translation  of  Ossian,  a  supposed  Gaelic  poet  of  the 
third  century.  It  was  probably  in  large  part  a  forgery; 
but  it  contained    some    real    poetry,  wild    and   „ 

.  Ossian 

weird  in  conception,  passionate  in  feeling,  and 
highly  figurative  in  style.  The  most  assured  fact  about 
the  book  is  its  powerful  influence.  Gray  seems  to  have 
been  much  interested  in  it,  as  he  was  also  in  the  legends 
of  the  Norse  mythology.  These  and  other  books  illustrate 
the  growing  spirit  of  Romanticism  and  show  how  eager 
men  were  for  anything  that  would  appeal  to  romantic 
sentiment. 

Another  name  which  has  certain  points  of  association 
with  those  just  mentioned,  and  which,  like  them,  is  forever 
linked  with  the  history  of  the  romantic  movement,  is  that 
of  Thomas  Chatterton.  This  "  marvellous  boy,"  jhomas 
as  Wordsworth  called  him,  began  his  literary  Chatterton 
career  at  twelve  years  of  age  with  poems  and  prose  pieces 
which  he  pretended  to  have  found  in  the  muniment  room 
of  the  old  church  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe  at  Bristol.  During 
his  brief  career,  he  produced  a  considerable  number  of 
poems  displaying  much  poetic  beauty,  love  of  nature,  ro- 
mantic spirit,  and  lyric  feeling.  They  were  written  in  an 
imitation  of  the  English  of  the  early  fifteenth  century, 
and  for  a  time  deceived  some  good  scholars.  Though 
now  known  to  be  Chattcrton's  own  work,  they  still  retain 
interest  by  virtue  of  their  inherent  merits.  Indeed,  their 
importance  is  heightened  by  our  knowledge  of  the  fact 
that  poems  of  such  excellence  were  written  by  one  who  at 
the  time  of  his  death  was  little  more  than  a  child.  Chat- 
terton may  be  called,  if  we  are  disposed  to  harshness,  a 
literary  forger.  Considering  his  age,  it  is  at  least  more 
charitable  and  probably  quite  as  near  the  truth  to  attribute 
his  methods  to  an  inborn  poetic  and  dramatic  faculty  e.xer- 
cised  by  one  too  young  to  appreciate  the  moral  bearings  of 
his  deceit  —  a  faculty,  moreover,  so  .strong  as  probably  to 


234  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

create  in  the  boy's  own  mind  an  illusion  of  the  essential 
reality  of  his  poetic  dreams.  In  any  case,  no  one  can 
deny  that  he  was  a  true  poet  and  that  his  achievement 
was  simply  astounding  for  one  so  young.  Chatterton  con- 
tinued his  work  for  several  years  at  his  home  in  Bristol, 
making  various  attempts  to  attract  the  interest  of  prom- 
inent men,  and  then  went  to  try  his  literary  fortunes  in  the 
metropolis.  After  a  proud  struggle  with  bitter  poverty 
and  disappointed  ambition,  he  committed  suicide  in  a 
London  garret  at  the  age  of  seventeen  years  and  nine 
months.  Truly  he  deserves  to  rank  among  those  whom 
Shelley  calls 

The  inheritors  of  unfulfilled  renown. 

Our  review  of  poetical  work  has  carried  us  well  through 
the  period.  Reserving  for  the  present  a  discussion  of  the 
poetry  of  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  we  must  now  return  to 
the'  beginning  of  the  age  to  trace  the  development  of  a 
new  form  of  literature  —  the  modern  novel.  The  novel 
is  essentially  a  combination  of  a  narrative  plot  with  a  uni- 
fied and  consistent  picture  of  human  life  and  character. 
From  another  point  of  view,  it  may  be  called  a  combina- 
Forerunners  ^^^^  of  prosc  romancc  and  drama ;  for  the  prose 
of  the  Novel  romance  lays  chief  stress  upon  pure  narrative, 
while  the  interest  of  drama  centres  in  the  treatment  of 
humanity.  The  novel  differs  from  the  romance  in  aiming 
at  a  more  or  less  realistic  portrayal  of  life ;  it  differs  from 
the  drama  in  presenting  that  life  through  the  medium  of 
a  story  rather  than  upon  the  stage.  Both  of  these  proto- 
types of  the  novel — romance  and  drama  —  were  already 
fully  developed.  The  romance,  illustrated  by  such  works 
as  Bunyan's  Pilgrim  s  Progress,  Swift's  Gulliver's  Travels, 
and  Defoe's  Robinson  Crnsoe,  had  brought  merely  narra- 
tive fiction  to  its  perfection.  The  great  dramatists  — 
whose  name  is  legion  —  had  also  fully  demonstrated  what 


THE   AGE   OF  JOHNSON    0740-1780)  235 

could  be  done  in  the  portrayal  of  life  and  character.  It 
remained  only  for  some  one  to  unite  the  treatment  of  real 
life  with  the  direct  narrative  method  of  presentation  in 
order  to  produce  the  novel.  Addison  and  Steele,  in  the 
Sir  Roger  dc  Covcrlcy  Papers,  had  taken  a  step  in  the  right 
direction  by  presenting  admirable  character-sketches  in 
prose  ;  but  in  their  work  the  plot  was  still  lacking.  Rob- 
inson Crusoe  had  made  another  decided  contribution  by 
giving  the  finest  illustration  of  realistic  method  in  story- 
telling, but  without  a  broad  treatment  of  life  and  char- 
acter. All  the  elements  were  ready ;  and  prose  style, 
moreover,  had  been  fully  prepared  to  serve  as  the  fit 
instrument  of  expression.  Everything  awaited  the  original 
genius  or  the  happy  chance  that  should  bring  the  ele- 
ments into  combination  and  so  create  the  second  new 
literary  type  produced  by  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  man  was  already  there,  and  the  happy  chance 
soon  came.  Samuel  Richardson  was  a  prosperous  [)rinter 
who  had  already  reached  the  age  of  fifty  with-  samuei 
out  being  known  to  fame  when  his  epoch-  R'^^a^'ison 
making  work  was  produced.  His  preparation  for  his 
great  accomplishment  was  as  fortunate  as  it  was  unique. 
In  his  earlier  days,  he  had  associated  much  with  women, 
for  some  of  whom  he  had  been  called  upon  to  employ  his 
literary  skill  in  the  writing  of  love-letters.  The  knowledge 
of  the  feminine  heart  and  the  practice  in  letter-writing 
thus  gained  were  to  stand  him  in  good  stead.  In  attempt- 
ing to  compile  a  sort  of  model  letter-writer  at  the  request 
of  a  London  firm  of  publishers,  he  hit  upon  the  happy 
idea  of  connecting  the  letters  by  the  thread  of  a  story, 
and  thus  almcxst  by  accident  produced  in  1740  the  first 
English  novel — Pamela.  It  is  the  story  of  a  young 
woman,  Pamela  Andrews,  whose  virtue  successfully  re- 
sisted the  strongest  temptation  and  who  was  finally 
rewarded   by  a   happy  marriage  with   her   tempter.     The 


236  CLASSICISM   (1660-1780) 

moral  is  not  altogether  agreeable  and  may  perhaps  serve 
as  an  illustration  of  the  prevailing  standards  of  the  age. 
Eight  years  later,  Richardson  published  his  masterpiece, 
Clarissa  Harlowe.  Its  theme  is  somewhat  the  same  as 
that  of  Pamela,  but  Clarissa  maintains  a  higher  standard 
of  virtue  and  persists  in  her  refusal  of  the  villain  Lovelace 
even  to  her  own  pathetic  death.  His  third  and  last  work 
was  the  Histo7y  of  Sir  Charles  Grandisoii  —  "the  character 
and  actions  of  a  man  of  true  honour."  All  of  his  stories 
are  told  through  the  medium  of  a  series  of  letters  written 
by  the  principal  characters.  The  method  has  its  disad- 
vantages, but  it  enables  the  author  to  reveal  the  characters 
and  their  motives  directly  through  themselves  rather  than 
by  description  or  explanation  from  without.  In  spite  of 
all  disadvantages,  the  novels  were  extremely  popular  and 
created  a  great  sensation  in  their  own  day.  Richardson 
was  a  man  of  great  seriousness  and  simplicity,  somewhat 
sentimental  and  nervous,  moral  in  ideals  and  conduct. 
Naturally  enough,  he  is  the  novelist  of  sentiment,  of 
pathos,  of  professed  morality.  His  insight  into  female 
character  is  accompanied  by  a  power  of  delicate  and 
subtle  analysis  and  a  marvelous  command  over  the  gentler 
emotions.  He  is  classical  in  his  realism ;  but  his  sen- 
timent and  his  appreciation  of  ordinary  character  ally 
him  also  with  the  individualistic  movement.  With  roman- 
tic and  naturalistic  tendencies,  he  has  not  much  direct 
connection. 

Henry  Fielding  began  his  literary  career  as  a  dramatist, 
but  his  work  in  that  direction  is  of  slight  literary  value. 
Hgnjy  It  doubtless  helped  to  give  him  preparation  for 

Fielding  j^jg  ]ater  work  by  broadening  his  observation 
of  life  and  training  his  skill  in  the  portrayal  of  character. 
His  first  novel  Wcis  Joseph  Andreivs,  T^nhlhhQd  in  1742. 
It  was  begun  as  a  parody  of  Richardson's  Pamela.  The 
story  represents  Pamela's  brother  Joseph,  a  virtuous  young 


THE   AGE   OF  JOHNSON    U74o-i7So)  237 

man,  resisting  female  allurements.  Fielding  soon  came 
to  a  realization  of  his  own  powers  and  opportunities,  grew 
interested  in  his  characters  for  their  own  sake,  dropped 
the  mere  parody,  and  finished  the  story  in  his  own  way. 
This  first  attempt  was  soon  followed  by  Mr.  JoiiatJian 
Wild  the  Gnat ;  and  some  years  later,  he  wrote  his  mas- 
terpiece, Tom  Jones,  "  the  history  of  a  foundling."  This 
is  the  greatest  novel  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  one  of 
the  greatest  in  the  literature.  At  times  e.xtremely  coarse, 
it  is,  nevertheless,  a  most  graphic  portrayal  of  human  life, 
full  of  vivid  realism  and  broad  humor.  His  last  novel, 
Amelia,  was  published  in  1751.  In  all  his  works  he  pur- 
sues the  method  of  direct  narration,  but  is  much  given  to 
episodes.  Fielding  was  a  strong  and  manly  figure,  a  man 
of  many  faults,  but  of  an  essentially  sound  nature.  He 
was  powerful  in  intellect  and  energetic  in  character.  In 
these  and  other  ways  he  was  a  strong  contrast  to  Richard- 
son, and  the  contrast  is  naturally  extended  to  the  work  of 
the  two  men.  Fielding's  best  insight  was  into  the  char- 
acters of  men,  while  he  had  comparatively  little  success 
in  the  treatment  of  women.  In  power  of  vivid  and  life- 
like portrayal,  few  novelists  have  been  his  equals.  His 
characters  are  intensely  human,  full  of  his  own  abound- 
ing vitality  and  energy.  The  life  that  he  portrays  is 
undeniably  coarse,  and  not  seldom  brutal ;  but  his  works 
are  saved  from  the  lowest  depths  by  their  humor  and 
geniality.  His  realism  and  his  gift  for  satire  show  the 
influence  of  classical  ideals,  but  he  is  anything  but 
formal  and  conventional.  He  displays  the  newer  spirit 
chiefly  by  his  sympathy  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men.  He  loves  life  and  he  portrays  it  with  an  unj)rej- 
udiced  impartiality.  Vehement  in  feeling  and  full  of 
warm  human  emotion,  he  has  a  ready  scorn  fur  that 
sentimentalism  which  seemed  to  him  to  verge  on  hy|)oc- 
risy.     Such  work     as    his    is    great    in  itself    and    gives 


238  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

fullest  promise  of  the  large  achievements  that  were  to 
be  made  in  the  new  form  of  literature  which  he  helped 
to  create. 

The  third  of  the  great  novelists  who  began  the  early- 
history  of  the  novel  was  Tobias  Smollett.  In  his  hands, 
Tobias  th^  ^^^  ^yP^  ^^^  broadened  in  range,  but  did 

SmoUett  nQ^  display  any  increase  in  artistic  skill.  He 
may  be  briefly  described  as  the  novelist  of  wild  adven- 
ture, of  satire,  and  of  cynicism.  The  experiences  of  his 
varied  and  adventurous  life  provided  him  with  abundant 
materials  for  his  novels.  He  was  not  a  man  of  great 
original  imagination,  and  shows  the  ability  to  reproduce 
rather  than  to  invent.  Like  the  other  novelists,  he  was 
realistic ;  but  his  reahsm  is  more  superficial,  and  is 
mingled  with  very  improbable  incidents.  His  characters 
are  exaggerated  and  violent,  and  most  of  his  heroes  are 
of  the  same  wild  and  vulgar  type.  Five  novels  stand 
to  his  account,  and  any  one  will  give  a  fair  idea  of  the 
rest.  Their  names  are  suggestive  of  their  character : 
Rodet'ick  Rmidoni,  Peregrine  Pickle,  Ferdinand  Count 
Fathom,  Sir  Lanncelot  Greaves,  and  HiimpJirey  Clinker. 
The  last  is  the  best,  and  well  illustrates  Smollett's  humor 
and  vigorous  movement. 

The  period  is  notable  for  a  series  of  separate  master- 
pieces which  still  further  illustrate  the  early  development 
Laurence  °^  ^^  novcl.  One  of  the  best  of  these  is 
Sterne  Stcmc's    Tristravi   Shandy,   a  work    character- 

ized by  a  most  rambling  plot,  but  by  extremely  lifelike 
characters.  In  addition  to  his  singular  powers  in  the 
matter  of  character-portrayal,  Sterne  had  a  fine  gift  of 
delicate  humor  and  an  exquisite  style.  His  indulgence  in 
sentimentalism  is  symbolized  by  his  Sentiniejital  Journey, 
a  mixture  of  travel  and  fiction.  This  work,  especially, 
marks  his  connection  with  the  newer  movement  and  his 
natural  antipathy  to  the    temper   of    Classicism.     Sterne 


THE   AGE   OK   JOHNSON    (i  740-1780)  239 

was  a  preacher,  and  some  of  his  finest  passages  are  to  be 
found  in  his  Smiioiis.  A  very  different  sort  of  man  and 
writer  was  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  who  made  a  contribu- 
tion to  prose  fiction  in  the  philosophical  and  Johnson's 
didactic  story  called  Rassc/as.  It  is  thoroughly  ^a^'as 
characteristic  of  the  great  thinker  and  moralist  and  clas- 
sicist, but  is  not  very  interesting,  either  for  its  plot  or  for 
its  characters.  The  type  is  rather  that  of  the  romance 
than  of  the  novel.     Horace  Walpole's  Castle  of  Waipoie's 

^  .         ,  ,  -11,"       Castle  of 

utranto  is  also  extremely  romantic  and  has  the  otranto 
interest  of  having  anticipated  Scott  in  the  field  of  mediae- 
val fiction.  A  number  of  similar  works  were  written  be- 
fore the  close  of  the  century,  but  they  hardly  call  for 
notice  in  a  brief  sur\'ey.  It  is  at  least  interesting  to  note 
that  the  novel  began  in  realism,  but  that  it  was  caught  by 
the  new  currents  and  swept  in  the  direction  of  Romanti- 
cism. Not  the  least  singular  fact  about  this  movement  is 
that  Dr.  Johnson,  the  extreme  classicist  of  the  age,  should 
have  been  an  unconscious  contributor.  Rasselas  is  in 
the  main  a  classical  book,  but  the  element  of  romanticism 
is  there.  The  last  and  in  many  respects  the  Goidsmith-s 
best  work  that  need  engage  attention   here  is  vicarof 

Wakefield 

Oliver  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  The 
plot  has  been  often  and  justly  criticised,  but  the  work  has 
many  virtues  to  redeem  this  chief  defect.  It  may  be 
called  a  romantic  novel  of  the  pastoral  type,  and  deserves 
its  fame  as  a  great  and  original  work  of  genius.  Its 
crowning  excellence  is  to  be  found  in  its  simple  but  mas- 
terly portrayal  of  lifelike  characters.  Goldsmith  was  one 
of  the  gentlest,  sweetest,  and  most  natural  of  men,  and  he 
has  succeeded  in  infusing  his  own  delightful  personal 
qualities  into  his  work.  For  sweet  simplicity,  charming 
humor,  and  graceful  style,  the  eighteenth  century  has  no 
better  book. 

Practically  all  of  the  authors  thus  far  discussed  felt  to  a 


240  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

greater  or  less  extent  the  influence  of  the  classical  ideas 
which  still  continued  to  assert  their  authority.  In  the 
main,  however,  most  of  these  authors  were  in  sympathy 
with  the  newer  spirit  and  showed  in  their  work  the  effect 
of  the  newer  tendencies.  Quite  the  contrary  is  true  of 
Samuel  Samucl  Johuson.      He  was  a  classicist  of   the 

Johnson  classicists,  and  his  works  illustrate  the  contin- 
ued vitality  of  the  classical  movement.  His  theories  were 
classical,  his  practice  was  classical,  the  whole  weight  of 
his  conscious  influence  was  exerted  on  the  classical  side. 
The  call  for  something  new,  striking,  and  original  met 
with  no  response  in  him.  Largely  by  the  force  of  his 
authority,  the  progress  of  the  new  movements  was  hin- 
dered and  delayed,  and  Classicism  was  given  a  new  lease 
Hiscia  i-  ^^  ^^^^'  -^^  preached  law  rather  than  freedom, 
cism  conformity  rather  than  encouragement  of  indi- 

viduality. He  stands,  therefore,  as  the  typical  representa- 
tive of  Classicism  in  this  age,  the  true  successor  of  Dryden 
and  Pope.  Yet  Johnson  had  an  indirect  and  unconscious 
relation  to  the  individualistic  movement.  He  did  so 
through  the  very  strength  of  his  own  character.  His 
was  a  powerful  and  imposing  personality,  a  nature  too 
large  really  to  be  bound  by  any  merely  conventional  re- 
strictions. He  believed  in  literary  law,  he  preached  liter- 
ary law,  and  practised  what  he  preached ;  but  over  and 
above  any  literary  authority,  he  was  really  a  law  unto 
Hisindi-  himsclf.  His  was  a  great  individuality  endeav- 
viduauty  oring  to  find  expression  through  classical  chan- 
nels, and  meeting  with  comparative  failure  because  the 
channels  were  inadequate.  He  was  original  in  spite  of 
himself  and  of  his  critical  theories.  The  man  was  much 
greater  than  his  work.  He  lives  for  us  not  so  much  in 
what  he  produced  as  in  Boswell's  immortal  biography. 
There  we  see  and  hear  the  man ;  for  he  is  there  preserved 
to  posterity  as  no  other  literary  man  has  ever  been  pre- 


THE   AGE   OF  JOHNSON    (1740-17S0)  241 

sen'ed.  It  is  said  that  he  talked  great  literature  superbly 
for  thirty  years.  This  and  Boswell's  picture  of  the  man 
help  us  to  understand  why  he  exerted  so  tremendous  an 
inriuence  in  spite  of  sucli  a  meagre  literary 
product.  His  circle  included  some  of  the  most  ^  °  "'°" 
able  and  distinguished  men  of  the  age ;  but  Johnson  was 
the  central  and  the  dominant  figure.  With  the  public  at 
large,  his  was  the  greatest  literary  reputation  and  the  most 
potent  literary  influence  of  the  time. 

It  is  necessary  to  speak  here  of  Johnson  as  a  poet ;  yet 
in  the  history  of  poetry  he  fills  but  a  small  place.  His 
most  characteristic  works  are  two  satires  in  imita-  t  u 

Johnson's 

tion  of  Juvenal.  In  the  first,  entitled  London,  his  Poetry 
attitude  is  that  of  the  rebuker  of  vice  and  the  censor  of 
manners.  In  The  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,  he  is  still  the 
moralist ;  but  his  thought  is  more  general  and  more 
philosophical.  These  poems  contain  noble  and  dignified 
passages,  in  harmony  with  Johnson's  lofty  character ;  but 
we  can  hardly  claim  for  him  the  genius  of  a  great  poet. 
The  style  is  thoroughly  classical,  less  brilliant  than  Pope's 
but  more  weighty. 

Johnson  has  already  attracted  our  attention  not  only  as 
a  poet  but  as  a  writer  of  fiction.     Rassclas,  as  we  have 
noted,  displays  his  characteristic  qualities  as  a  philosoph- 
ical moralist  and  as  a  classical  writer,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  has  a  romantic  element  that  illustrates  his  dispo- 
sition   to    leap    the    bounds    of    his    own  tlieories.     As    a 
general    prose-writer,   Johnson    holds    a    much 
larger  place ;  U)X  it  was  in   this    field    that    he  Pmllfwrit- 
found  his    best    literary    expression.     W'e   have  '"'* 
already  imjjlied  that  this  expression  was  at  best  inadequate, 
and  that  the  true  greatness  of  the  man  never  came  to  full 
expression  at  all.      He  was  a  great  thinker,  moralist,  and 
critic ;   he  was    still    greater  as   a    man  ;  but    he    did    not 
possess    in    any   remarkable  degree    the    gifts    of  a  great 


242  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

literary  artist.  What  he  accomplished  in  literature  was 
achieved  through  competent  literary  knowledge  and  the 
force  of  an  imposing  personality  rather  than  through  great 
literary  genius.  As  a  poet  and  a  novelist,  he  is  far  sur- 
passed by  lesser  men.  Even  as  a  miscellaneous  prose- 
writer,  he  does  not  achieve  the  highest  success.  He  was 
far  inferior  in  purely  literary  genius,  and  not  least  in  the 
genius  for  prose  style,  to  Oliver  Goldsmith,  whom  he 
petted,  patronized,  criticised,  and  bullied.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  as  a  prose-writer  that  Johnson  has  his  chief  claim 
to  literary  honors.  Like  Goldsmith,  he  did  much  of  his 
work  as  a  hack  writer.  One  of  his  greatest  achievements 
was  his  famous  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language,  which, 
of  course,  has  only  an  indirect  association  with  pure  litera- 
ture. The  Rambler  and  The  Idler  were  periodicals  after 
the  model  of  TJie  Spectator ;  but  it  need  hardly  be  said 
that  Johnson's  periodical  essays  are  far  different  in  quaHty 
from  those  of  Addison  and  Steele.  They  dealt  in  a  pon- 
derous philosophical  fashion  with  questions  of  morals,  man- 
ners, and  literary  criticism.  Among  his  later  works  two 
may  be  mentioned.  A  Journey  to  the  Western  Islands  of 
Scotland  records  a  trip  to  the  Highlands  and  the  Hebrides 
in  company  with  James  Boswell,  his  biographer.  It  is 
interesting  as  displaying  Johnson's  thoroughly  classical 
temper  and  his  sHght  sympathy  with  the  grandeur  of 
nature  and  with  all  that  was  wild,  legendary,  and  romantic. 
We  see  here  clearly  enough  that  whatever  association  he 
had  with  the  individualistic  movement  was  an  entirely 
unconscious  one,  due,  not  to  his  own  natural  incHnations, 
but  to  the  fact  that  he  himself  was  an  intensely  individual 
character.  He  could  be  more  strongly  individual  in  his 
conservatism  than  other  men  in  their  progressiveness. 
Probably  the  best  and  most  characteristic  work  of  his  lit- 
erary career  is  to  be  found  in  his  Lives  of  the  English 
Poets.     His  style  is  there  at  its  finest,  and  he  displays  in 


THE   AGE    OF  JOHNSON    (1740-1780)  243 

full  measure  his  powers  of  philosophical  criticism.  The 
narrowness  of  his  poetic  sympathy,  as  well  as  the  essential 
kindliness  and  generosity  of  his  nature,  is  there  apparent. 
Some  of  the  very  greatest  of  English  poets  find  very  inad- 
equate treatment,  while  his  best  work  is  bestowed  on 
some  of  the  poorest.  He  utters  his  critical  opinions  in  a 
dictatorial  and  sometimes  severe  manner,  but  his  nature 
was  too  honest  ever  to  be  consciously  unjust.  Where  he 
fails,  his  failure  is  due  to  the  limitations  of  his  critical 
insight  and  to  the  limitations  of  the  classical  temper  in 
dealing  with  work  outside  its  range.  It  is  to  be  added  to 
his  credit  that  his  good  sense  and  strong  natural  intelli- 
gence not  seldom  break  the  bonds  of  his  cherished  classical 
theories. 

Johnson's  prose  style  is  classic  in  its  formality,  in  its 
elaboration,  and  in  its  abstract,  intellectual  quality  ;  but  it 
is,  nevertheless,  the  characteristic  product  of  a  ,^^  , 
unique  individual.  Johnson  is  classical,  but  he  style 
is  classical  in  his  own  way.  The  style  of  the  most  typical 
classical  prose-writers  is  clear,  simple,  polished,  direct ; 
the  style  of  Johnson  is  ponderous,  periodic.  Latinized, 
stately,  sonorous.  So  individual  is  this  style  that  its  pe- 
culiar quality  has  come  to  be  designated  by  the  word 
"Johnsonese."  In  his  later  life,  the  simpler  and  more 
direct  manner  of  his  conversational  style  came  to  have 
much  influence  upon  his  writings  ;  and  in  his  Lhcs  of  the 
Poets,  he  becomes  a  much  better  model  of  expression  than 
in  his  earlier  prose  works.  If  he  could  only  have  written 
as  he  talked,  he  wr)ukl  have  been  a  much  greater  master 
of  prose  style.  His  two  manners  have  been  often  illus- 
trated by  a  famous  example.  He  once  said  in  conversa- 
tion, "  The  Rcluarsal  has  not  wit  enough  to  keep  it  sweet." 
That  is  altogether  admirable  ;  but  the  ponderous  old  scholar 
could  not  be  content  with  anything  so  simple,  so  direct,  so 
terse,  and  so  forcible.     His  instinct  for  sounding  phrase 


244  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

led  him  to  translate  it  at  once  into  typical  "Johnsonese," 
"  It  has  not  sufficient  vitality  to  preserve  it  from  putrefac- 
tion." The  second  form  sounds  almost  like  a  parody  of 
the  first,  but  it  is  typical  of  Johnson's  method. 

We  have  already  emphasized  the  fact  that  Johnson  was 
greater  as  a  man  than  as  a  writer,  greater  in  his  inspired 
conversation  than  in  his  formal  literary  expression.  The 
immortal  proof  of  this  is  contained  in  Boswell's  Life  of 
Bosweii's  JoJmsoii.  Jamcs  Boswell  was  a  Scotchman  of 
Johnson  good  family  and  education ;  but  he  made  him- 
self the  humble  friend  and  follower  of  Johnson  for  a  series 
of  years,  noting  with  patience  and  fidelity  his  words,  his 
acts,  and  his  peculiarities  of  character.  In  this  unique 
fashion  he  gathered  the  materials  that  enabled  him  to 
create  the  greatest  biography  ever  written.  The  portrait 
of  Johnson  is  drawn  at  full  length,  and  with  an  intimacy 
of  knowledge  that  would  have  been  impossible  to  any  other 
than  such  a  combination  of  toady  and  hero-worshipper  as 
Boswell  seems  to  have  been.  His  success  is  so  great  be- 
cause he  was  willing  to  lose  himself  in  his  subject.  Here 
Johnson  lives  and  talks  forever  for  many  to  whom  his 
written  works  are  little  more  than  a  name. 

The  conflict  between  Classicism  and  Individualism  is  no- 
where more  marked  than  in  Oliver  Goldsmith.  From  all 
-,.  that  we  know  of   him,  he  seems  to  have  had  the 

Oliver  ' 

Goldsmith  genius  and  the  instincts  of  a  decidedly  original 
poet ;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  would  have 
been  much  more  nearly  in  harmony  with  the  new  move- 
ments if  it  had  not  been  for  external  influences.  His 
natural  tendency  in  this  direction,  however,  was  restrained 
by  the  classical  spirit  that  was  still  so  strong  in  the  age  and 
more  particularly  by  his  close  personal  associa- 

His  Poetry  .  •  ,      t-^        t    ,  .-1-.1        ,  ^    « • 

tion  With  Dr.  Johnson.  The  two  representative 
poems  of  Goldsmith  are  TJie  Traveller  and  The  Deserted 
Village.     The  former  reflects  his  experiences  as  a  scholarly 


THE    AGE    OF  JOHNSON    (i 740-1 7S0)  245 

vagabond  on  the  continent,  and  mingles  beautiful  poetic 
description  with  the  didactic  purpose  of  giving  "  a  prospect 
of  society."  The  poem  well  illustrates  Goldsmith's  roman- 
tic personality  ;  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  largely  classical 
in  style  and  in  general  conception.  TJic  Deserted  I  lllage 
bewails  the  decay  of  the  peasantry,  and  describes  the  lovely 
village  now  forsaken  by  its  former  cheerful  inhabitants. 
The  pictures  of  the  village  preacher  and  the  village  school- 
master show  Goldsmith  at  his  best.  He  is  a  true  poet, 
uniting  vivid  imagination  with  a  fine  sense  of  beauty,  deli- 
cate and  tender  sentiment  with  an  exquisite  gift  of  humor. 
Here,  as  in  The  Traveller,  he  is  classical  in  style  and 
didactic  in  intention ;  but  he  shows  romantic  feeling,  is  a 
genuine  lover  of  nature,  and  by  his  unaffected  sympathy 
with  the  poor  and  humble  connects  himself  with  the  dem- 
ocratic tendency.  Of  the  last,  these  lines  from  Tlic  De- 
serted I'illage  are  typical : 

Princes  and  lords  may  flourish  or  may  fade  ; 
A  breath  cin  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made ; 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed  can  never  be  supphed. 

Goldsmith's  charming  prose  fiction,  The  Viear  of  Wake- 
field, has  been  already  mentioned  in  connection  with  our 
discussion  of  the  development  of  the  novel.     It 

/■I  r  •  r    1  •      1-  Goldsmith's 

is  one  of  the  very  finest  creations  of  his  literary  Prose 
genius,  if  not  his  masterpiece.  In  addition  to  " '°*^ 
this  and  to  his  poems,  he  wrote  a  great  amount  of  miscel- 
laneous prose,  much  of  it  the  work  of  a  hack  writer  labor- 
ing for  his  daily  bread,  but  nearly  all  of  it  touched  with 
the  charm  of  his  delightful  style.  For  ease,  for  grace,  and 
for  delicate  humor,  (ioldsmith  has  no  superior  among  the 
prose-writers  of  the  century.  His  style  has  all  the  clas- 
sical virtues,  but  it  has  beyond  these  that  inimitable  magic 
which  only  genius  can  compass.       While  he  docs  not  pass 


246  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

beyond  the  legitimate  bounds  of  prose,  he  conveys  the  im- 
pression that  his  nature  was  essentially  that  of  a  born  poet. 
Among  the  products  of  his  pen,  we  have  periodical  litera- 
ture, history,  biography,  natural  science,  learning,  and 
politics ;  but  his  most  characteristic  prose  work  outside 
of  his  single  novel  is  to  be  found  in  his  charming  mis- 
cellaneous Essays.  In  this  field  of  miscellaneous  prose. 
Goldsmith  produced  no  single  work  that  is  noteworthy 
as  a  product  of  artistic  imagination.  It  is  the  style 
alone  that  makes  it  literature ;  but  for  the  sake  of  the 
style,  it  will  continue  to  be  read  and  cherished.  As  in  the 
case  of  his  novel,  Goldsmith  has  known  how  to  make  his 
style  express  the  personal  qualities  of  one  of  the  most  lov- 
able men  in  English  literature ;  and  for  this  reason,  if  for 
no  other,  it  would  still  hold  its  charm. 

The  versatility  of  Goldsmith's  genius  is  well  shown  by 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  great  poet,  a  great  novelist,  a  great 
master  of  prose  style,  and  —  we  may  add  —  a  great  drama- 
Goidsmith's  ^ist.  In  drama  his  work  consists  of  two  fa- 
Dramas  mous  comedies,  The  Good-Nat2ived  Man  and  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer.  The  latter  was  probably  the  best 
comedy  produced  since  the  Restoration,  surpassed  in  the 
eighteenth  century  by  no  other  dramatic  work  save  that  of 
Sheridan.  Far  cleaner  and  healthier  than  any  of  the 
Restoration  dramas,  it  is  not  less  witty  and  far  more 
good-natured.  It  is  as  bright,  as  gay,  as  humorous,  as 
sweet  as  Goldsmith  himself. 

The  development  of  prose  in  the  Age  of  Johnson  is  illus- 
trated by  many  names  and  by  many  varieties  of  writing. 
Especially  by  service  in  the  fields  of  philosophy,  history, 
and    politics    was    it   decidedly    advanced    and 

David  Hume  ■' 

broadened.  Among  philosophers,  David  Hume 
was  probably  the  most  eminent,  both  for  style  and  for  mat- 
ter. His  philosophical  views  do  not  especially  concern  us 
here ;   but    his  use    of  prose   in   philosophical   discussion 


THE   AGE   OF   JOHNSON    (1740-17S0)  247 

shows  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  considerable  Hterary 
ability  so  far  as  concerns  the  mere  matter  of  expression. 
His  style  is  clear,  hard,  keen,  and  comparatively  colorless. 
It  was  well  adapted  for  his  philosophical  purpose.  His 
History  of  England  illustrates  the  use  of  his  literary  powers 
in  another  field.  The  greatest  historian  of  the  age,  how- 
ever, was  Edward  Gibbon,  author  of  The  History  Edward 
of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  ^'*'''°° 
His  historical  task  was  a  stupendous  one  ;  his  work  covered 
some  fourteen  hundred  years  of  history,  ranging  over  the 
whole  extent  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  even  to  the  regions 
beyond.  The  great  labor  was  accomplished  with  such 
patience,  industry,  and  skill  that  his  work  has  not  yet  been 
superseded.  In  his  way  Gibbon  is  a  master  of  style. 
Classical,  cold,  and  intellectual,  he  had  yet  a  great  histor- 
ical imagination,  and  his  language  moves  with  the  stately 
pomp  of  a  Roman  triumph.  Hume  and  Gibbon  must  suf- 
fice as  representatives  of  a  large  company  of  miscellaneous 
writers.  Beyond  and  above  these,  three  men  stand  out  as 
unquestionably  greatest  among  the  prose-writers  of  the 
age.  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  we  have  already  considered. 
The  third  and  in  many  respects  the  greatest  is  Edmund 
Burke,  philosophical  thinker,  maker  if  not  writer  of  history, 
splendid  master  of  political  prose. 

Like  all  the  great  prose-writers  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, Burke  strongly  felt  the  influence  of  classical  ten- 
dencies. Yet  he  was  not  a  slave  to  them.  Like  Edmund 
Johnson,  he  was  decidedly  individual,  and  gave  ^"^''* 
to  his  style  the  coloring  of  his  own  habits  of  thou<;ht. 
There  seems  to  have  been  a  more  or  less  conscious  effort 
on  the  part  of  both  these  great  writers  to  heighten  and 
adorn  in  u  mtjre  incjdern  fashion  the  style  which  Clas- 
sicism  had  tended  to  make  plain  and  simple.  This  was 
not  in  any  sense  a  return  lo  the  jjoetic  i)rose  ol  tlic 
seventeenth    century  ;    for    these   men   heartily  desired  to 


248  CLASSICISM  (1660-1780) 

retain  all  that  Classicism  had  achieved  for  prose  style. 
It  was  rather  an  effort  to  broaden  the  range  and  in- 
crease the  impressiveness  of  style,  without  destroying  any 
measure  of  its  practical  efficiency.  Burke's  method  of 
doing  this  was  far  different  from  that  of  Johnson.  He 
was  a  great  rhetorician,  a  man  of  splendid  imagination ; 
and  his  style  often  becomes  gorgeous  with  imagery,  rich 
and  massy  as  cloth  of  gold.  His  literary  methods  were 
those  of  the  orator ;  for  most  of  his  productions  were 
written  to  be  spoken,  and  others  felt  the  influence  of  his 
oratorical  habits.  Yet  he  was  not  an  effective  speaker. 
Contrary  to  the  general  rule  in  the  case  of  great  orators, 
he  repelled  his  immediate  hearers,  but  charmed  those 
who  read  his  speeches  in  print.  Of  all  great  orators, 
therefore,  he  probably  holds  the  largest  place  in  literature. 
Other  men  live  in  traditions  as  to  the  effect  which  their 
speeches  produced,  while  for  the  reader  of  a  later  day 
the  charm  has  largely  gone  out  of  their  words.  Burke 
continues  to  live  in  the  actual  literary  vitality  which  his 
speeches  still  retain.  It  is  as  though  he  had  talked  over 
the  heads  of  his  living  auditors  and  had  spoken  to  pos- 
terity. All  this  is  probably  due  in  large  measure  to  the 
fact  that  his  peculiar  gifts  were  in  reality  not  so  much 
those  of  the  orator  as  those  of  the  superb  rhetorician. 

So  far  as  the  development  of  Burke's  style  is  concerned, 
it  seems  to  have  reversed  the  usual  order.  Most  men 
Burke's  tend  to  be  more  emotional  and  ornate  in  their 
^*^'^  earlier    writings,    and  to  become  more  intellec- 

tual and  plain  as  they  become  more  mature.  There  is 
doubtless  a  steady  growth  of  intellectual  power  in  Burke's 
work ;  but  his  earlier  style  is  comparatively  plain,  while 
his  most  gorgeous  passages  occur  in  his  later  writings. 
This  contrast  is  made  still  more  emphatic  by  a  considera- 
tion of  his  subject-matter.  One  of  his  earliest  works  was 
a  treatise  on  the  Origin  of  our  Ideas  of  the  Sjiblime  and 


THE    AGE   OF   JOHNSON    (1740-1780)  249 

Beautiful ;  one  of  the  most  typical  of  his  later  works  was 
his  Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord.  It  is  not  a  Httle  surprising  to 
find  that  the  latter  theme  produced  the  richer  and  more 
imaginative  style.  Something  of  this  difference  is  doubt- 
less due  to  the  purposes  of  the  various  writings  and  the 
circumstances  under  which  they  were  produced.  A  still 
further  probable  explanation  is  that  Burke  felt  the  repress- 
ing influences  of  Classicism  more  strongly  in  his  younger 
days,  and  gave  freer  play  to  his  own  remarkable  individ- 
uality as  he  grew  older.  The  conditions  of  the  age  were 
favorable  to  such  a  development.  The  force  of  Classicism 
was  growing  ever  less  and  less,  the  forces  of  Individualism 
were  becoming  ever  more  and  more ;  and  Burke's  life 
continued  until  1797,  into  a  time  when  the  newer  influ- 
ences had  gained  their  complete  triumph. 

Among  Burke's  most  famous  productions  are  those  in 
which  he  deals  with  the  misgovernment  in  India  under 
Warren  Hastings,  with  the  French  Revolution,  Burke's 
and  with  the  affairs  of  the  American  colonies.  Genius 
In  these  and  other  works,  he  reveals  himself  as  an  orator, 
a  statesman,  a  political  philosopher,  and  a  scholar.  He 
united  great  literary  ability  with  a  powerful  mind,  an 
impressive  personality,  a  noble  character,  and  a  high  devo- 
tion to  truth  and  duty.  His  writings  are  splendid  exam- 
ples of  logical  argument,  exalted  by  poetic  imagination, 
enriched  by  vast  knowledge,  inspired  by  intense  earnest- 
ness, and  clothed  in  a  diction  of  surpassing  power  and 
beauty.  Johnson  was  a  great  and  typical  Englishman 
in  every  fibre  of  his  being;  Burke  added  to  solid  intel- 
lectual and  moral  qualities  the  imaginative  fervor  of  his 
Irish  nature. 

The  drama  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  extensive,  but 
very  little  of  it  has  permanent  literary  or  acting  value. 
We  have  already  noted  the  dramatic  work  of  Addison  and 
Steele  in  the  early  jnirt  of  the   century.     Within  the  Age 


250  CLASSICISM    (1660-1780) 

of  Johnson  several  men  already  mentioned  in  other  depart- 
ments of  literature  tried   their  hands  at  dramatic   work. 
Thomson,  the  poet,  wrote  dramas  which  are  now 

Eighteenth-  ^ 

century  •       all   Dut   forgottcn.     Young  produced  a  tragedy 
^^'^^  called   T/ic  Revenge.     Johnson,  who  appears  in 

all  forms  of  literature,  was  the  author  of  a  cold  and  stately 
classical  tragedy  named  Irene.  Fielding  wrote  a  number 
of  comedies  before  he  found  his  true  vocation  as  a  novelist, 
but  none  of  them  would  have  preserved  his  fame  to  pos- 
terity. Of  the  many  minor  dramatists  there  is  no  occasion 
to  speak.  Only  two  men,  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan,  pro- 
duced work  which  is  of  high  literary  quality  and  which  still 
retains  its  interest  upon  the  stage.  Goldsmith's  two  come- 
dies. The  Good-Natured  Man  and  She  Stoops  to  Conquer, 
have  already  received  due  attention,  and  it  only  remains  to 
speak  briefly  of  the  dramatic  work  of  Sheridan. 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  was,  Hke  Goldsmith  and  like 

Burke,  an  Irishman ;  and  he  had  all  the  Irish  brilliancy 

and  wit.     He  was  one  of  the  most  famous  orators 

Richard 

Brinsley  of  his  time,  far  surpassing  Burke  in  the  imme- 
diate and  striking  character  of  his  oratorical 
effects,  but  as  far  inferior  to  him  in  the  permanent  literary 
quality  of  his  work.  His  literary  fame  rests  almost  exclu- 
sively upon  his  dramas.  His  famous  comedy,  The  Rivals, 
was  written  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  and  The  School  for 
Scandal  and  The  Critic  within  four  years  thereafter. 
Sheridan  wrote  other  plays,  but  none  that  equal  these 
three.  These  are  sufficient  to  maintain  his  reputation  as 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  English  writers  of  comedy. 
Such  names  as  Bob  Acres,  Mrs.  Malaprop,  Sir  Peter  and 
Lady  Teazle,  and  Sir  Fretful  Plagiary  are  among  the  best 
known  in  English  comic  drama.  They  give  evidence  of 
Sheridan's  skill  in  the  creation  of  comic  characters  and  of 
his  masterful  ease  in  witty  and  sparkling  dialogue. 


iNdi/^  H<*fmj  -  piO--. 


BOOK    V 

IXDIl  ID i  'ALISM  {_j 780-1 83 2) 

chapti-:r  XIII 

THE   AGE   OF   BURNS    (1780-1800) 

The  Age  of  Johnson  was  an  age  of  transition.  Classi- 
cism continued  to  assert  its  authority  and  to  influence  the 
character  of  literary  work  ;  but  both  its  prestige  and  its 
power  gradually  declined  before  the  growing  strength  of 
other  forces.  The  Age  of  Burns  was  also  in  soqie  sense 
an  age  of  transition.  The  reign  of  Classicism,  to  be  sure, 
was  practically  over,  and  only  here  and  there  did  evidences 
remain  that  its  rule  had  once  been  so  exclusive  and  so 
potent.  The  reign  of  Individualism  had  clearly  begun, 
with  the  prestige  derived  from  a  generation  of  character 
successful  struggle.  Yet  this  age  was  not  to  "^''"^Age 
witness  the  high  tide  of  the  individualistic  movement,  that 
display  of  its  power  which  was  to  create  the  noblest  body 
of  English  literature  since  the  days  of  Shakespeare.  This 
full  manifestation  of  the  jwwer  of  Individualism  in  litera- 
ture was  to  come  in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  In  the  meantime,  the  last  twenty  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century  were  to  constitute  a  period  during 
which  individualistic  tendencies  should  be  clearly  domi- 
nant, and  during  which  there  should  be  a  still  further 
gathering  up  of  strength  for  widespread  and  splendid 
literary  achievement.  It  is  in  j)art  such  considerations 
as  these  that  make  it  desirable  to  set  this  period  off  by 
itself  as  a  distinct  interval  lying  between  the  vastly  differ- 
ent ages  of  Johnscjn  and  Wordsworth,  partaking  to  some 

251 


252  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

extent  of  the  character  of  each,  and  serving  to  bridge  the 
gulf  between  them.  The  relation  is  in  many  ways  analo- 
gous to  that  of  the  Age  of  Dryden,  lying  between  the  Age 
of  Milton  on  the  one  hand  and  the  Age  of  Pope  on  the 
other.  Nor  was  the  period  lacking  in  a  distinct  hterary 
quality  of  its  own.  Its  note  is  not  quite  like  that  of  any 
other  time  in  our  literary  history.  Its  authors  were  men 
of  distinct  individuality,  and  they  produced  work  that  is 
decidedly  unique  in  character. 

The  age,  as  we  have  implied,  illustrates  the  growth  of 
Individualism.  This  growth  is  mainly  along  the  old  hues, 
Growth  of  but  it  is  accompanied  by  a  considerable  introduc- 
individuahsm  |.jqj^    q£    j^g^  elements.      Imagination    becomes 

less  imitative  and  more  original ;  expression  becomes  less 
perfunctory  and  more  spontaneous.  We  have  seen  that 
the  individualistic  movement  during  the  Age  of  Johnson 
had  manifested  itself  chiefly  in  five  different  directions  — 
in  the  direction  of  Romanticism,  in  the  direction  of  a  growing 
love  for  nature,  in  the  direction  of  a  freer  expression  of  emo- 
tion, in  the  direction  of  a  larger  and  deeper  interest  in  the 
common  man,  and  in  the  direction  of  religion.  The  Age 
of  Burns  marks  advance  in  all  of  these  ways,  and  makes  it 
increasingly  clear  that  all  of  these  tendencies  find  their  best 
explanation  as  manifestations  of  the  individualistic  spirit. 
Nowhere  was  progress  more  marked  than  in  the  poetic 
treatment  of  nature.  The  natural  description  of  Thomson 
Love  for  cau  hardly  bear  comparison  with  the  fresh,  un- 
Nature  affcctcd,  closcly  obscrvant,  and  tenderly  sympa- 

thetic treatment  of  Cowper.  The  sentiment  of  nature 
which  Collins  so  charmingly  conveys  is  conveyed  by  Blake 
with  a  subtler  and  stranger  magic.  Above  all,  the  poetry 
of  Robert  Burns  brings  us  into  an  intimate  and  living  con- 
tact with  the  natural  world  to  which  there  is  no  parallel  in 
the  hterature  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  perhaps  no 
parallel  elsewhere. 


THE  AGE  OF  BURNS  (17S0-1S00)  253 

Romanticism  in  this  period  was  partly  imitative  and 
partly  original.  The  romance  which  found  its  inspira- 
tion in  a  "  Gothic  "  medicevalism  is  illustrated  in 

1  1         /-.  1  111  11        Romanticism 

the  novel.  On  the  other  hand,  a  poem  like 
Burns's  Ta))i  O' Shantcr  suggested  the  imsuspected  world 
of  romance  that  may  lie  hidden  in  the  superstitions  of  a 
countryside  and  in  the  befuddled  brain  of  a  drunken 
peasant.  In  still  another  direction,  the  mystical  fancy  of 
Blake  revealed  romantic  realms  of  which  he  alone  was  the 
creator. 

The  emotionalism  of  the  Age  of  Johnson,  as  we  have 
seen,  deserved  to  some  extent  the  accusation  of  "  senti- 
mentalism."  The  emotionalism  of  the  present  Emotional- 
period  is  not  only  stronger  but  more  sincere.  '^™ 
The  poets  of  this  age  express  feeling  not  merely  as  a  poetic 
duty  but  because  the  passion  of  their  hearts  will  not  be 
refused  utterance.  There  is  no  more  passionate  poet  than 
Robert  l^urns,  and  it  is  the  intensity  and  sincerity  of  his 
feeling  that  gives  to  his  lyric  music  such  marvelous  power 
over  the  human  heart. 

On  the  side  of  religion  there  was  no  such  marked  move- 
ment as  the  Wesleyan  revival,  but  the  age  was  on  the 
whole  decidedly  more  religious.     There  was  re- 

^  .      ^  ReUgion 

action  from  the  scepticism  so  prevalent  during 
the  eighteenth  century,  while  Methodism  and  other  move- 
ments had  done  much  to  purify  and  elevate  contemporary 
life.  The  religious  spirit  found  expression  in  literature. 
No  one  who  reads  Cowper's  poetry  can  doubt  the  sincerity 
and  depth  of  his  religious  feeling.  Blakc  was  a  religious 
mystic.  Burns's  Cotter  s  Saturday  A^ii^/tt  and  other  poems 
reveal  the  true  religious  sentiment  that  lay  beneath  the 
surface  of  that  wild  and  seemingly  irreverent  nature.  It 
is  typical  of  the  age  as  well  as  of  the  man  that  Burns 
poured  out  his  scornful  ridicule  only  upon  the  religious 
profession  that  was  false  and  hypocritical. 


254  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

Finally,  the  age  was  one  which  recognized  as  no  other 
age  had  ever  done  the  value  and  importance  of  the  common 
Democratic  ^lan.  The  French  Revolution  set  up  its  motto 
Spirit  of    "  Liberty,    Equality,    Fraternity "  ;    and    by 

those  ideas  more  than  by  any  others  the  age  was  stirred. 
The  standard  of  modern  democracy  had  been  raised  ;  and 
if  democracy  was  not  yet  to  triumph,  its  spirit  was  in  the 
air  presaging  future  victory.  Of  these  ideas.  Burns,  of 
course,  was  the  chief  poetic  voice.  They  run  through  all 
his  poetry.  In  such  words  as  these,  they  are  gathered  up 
into  brief  expression : 

Then  let  us  pray  that  come  it  may, 

As  come  it  will  for  a'  that ; 
That  sense  and  worth,  o'er  a'  the  earth, 

May  bear  the  gree,  and  a'  that ;  / 

For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

It's  coming  yet,  for  a'  that ; 
<        That  man  to  man,  the  world  o'er, 
Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that. 

Not  only  does  Burns  illustrate  each  of  these  separate 
tendencies ;  he  more  than  any  other  man  illustrates  the 
_    .  fact  that  they  find  their  deepest  explanation  in 

Dominance  -^  _  '■  _        ^ 

of  Individual-  the  intensely  individualistic  spirit  of  the  age. 
Burns  himself  was  a  strong  and  vigorous  person- 
ality. He  believed  in  the  individual  man  and  in  his  right 
to  work  out  his  destiny  in  his  own  fashion.  In  his  poetry, 
he  voiced  the  faith  that  the  individual  imagination  should 
be  free,  to  seek  its  own  in  the  realms  of  romance  or  in  the 
common  ways  of  the  actual  world  ;  that  the  individual  in- 
stinct should  be  free,  to  find  its  delight  in  communion  with 
nature  or  in  fellowship  with  men;  that  the  individual 
heart  should  be  free,  to  cherish  and  to  voice  its  deepest 
passions ;  that  the  individual  conscience  should  be  free,  to 
worship   God  according  to  its  own  dictates  ;  that  the  in- 


THE  AGE  OF  BURNS  ^1780-1800)  255 

dividual  man  should  be  free,  to  find  in  righteous  use  of  his 
freedom  his  own  fullest  development.  His  works  and  the 
works  of  the  other  great  men  who  labored  with  him  in  his 
time  afford  large  illustration  of  the  fact  that  the  dominant 
guiding  impulse  of  literature  in  the  age  was  the  impulse 
of  Individualism. 

The  age  was  not  one  of  the  largest  and  fullest  achieve- 
ment. Indeed,  its  literary  product  was  comparatively 
limited,  both  in  quantity  and  in  range,  although 
some  of  it  was  of  a  high  order  of  excellence.  Product  of 
The  fountains  of  great  inspiration  were  not  as'***^® 
yet  open  to  many  men,  but  some  few  had  drunk  deep  of 
the  "  Pierian  spring."  In  only  two  departments  of  pure 
literature  was  any  work  accomplished  that  calls  for  special 
mention  here.  Sheridan  was  still  alive ;  but  neither  he 
nor  any  one  else  was  producing  important  dramatic  work. 
In  the  field  of  great  prose  style,  Burke  continued  to  display 
his  masterly  powers  until  his  death  in  1797;  but  Burke 
belonged  mainly  to  the  Age  of  Johnson  and  has  already 
been  considered  there.  He  had  no  compeer  or  worthy 
successor  in  the  present  period.  In  poetry  alone  was  there 
any  work  of  a  really  high  order.  Four  poets  —  Cowper, 
Crabbe,  Blake,  and  Burns  —  illustrate  the  age.  They  are 
of  rather  unequal  importance  ;  but  all  of  them,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  will  call  for  definite  consideration.  The 
progress  of  the  novel,  too,  will  demand  brief  notice  ;  for 
although  no  real  masterpiece  was  produced,  there  was  a 
development  of  fiction  in  the  hands  of  many  minor  writers 
which  forms  a  not  uninteresting  passage  in  the  general  his- 
tory of  the  novel. 

The  modern  novel  began  in  realism  —  in  the  portrayal 
of  contemnorarv  life  and  character.      Itsdevelop- 

1       •  /a  f    I     u  •     I       •       The  Novel 

mcnt  during  the  Age  ot  Jcmnson  was  mainly  in 

the  same  direction,  although  there  were,  as  we  have  seen, 

a  few  individual  e.xceptions.     The  realistic  type  of  fiction 


256  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

has  not  at  any  time  since  altogether  ceased.  Perhaps  its 
best  representative  in  the  present  period  was  Fanny  Burney, 
afterward  Madame  D'Arblay.  She  was  a  sort  of  female 
Richardson,  and  her  Evelina  and  Cecilia  remind  us  not  a 
little  of  his  Clarissa  Harlowe.  By  her  faithfulness  in  tran- 
scribing ordinary  life  and  character,  she  affords  a  faint 
anticipation  of  the  work  of  Jane  Austen  in  the  next 
generation.  Her  novels  are  stories  of  love  amid  the  en- 
vironment of  polite  society.  This  period  also  saw  the 
development  of  an  extremely  romantic  type  of  fiction. 
The  prototype  of  the  class  was  Walpole's  Castle  of  OU'anto, 
mentioned  in  the  previous  chapter.  While  no  really  im- 
portant work  was  produced,  the  type  itself  is  of 
interest.  Its  chief  ingredients  were  mystery  and  terror  ; 
and  to  produce  these  effects,  it  made  use  of  ghosts, 
demons,  haunted  castles,  secret  passages,  blood,  intrigue, 
and  death,  together  with  all  sorts  of  natural  and  super- 
natural machinery.  The  most  famous  writer  of  this 
school  was  Mrs.  Ann  Radcliffe,  whose  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho  may  be  taken  as  an  excellent  representative  of 
the  type.  She  indulges  freely  in  the  supernatural,  but 
makes  an  effort  to  explain  it  by  natural  causes.  Still  more 
extreme  in  its  "  Gothic  "  character  was  The  Monk,  from 
which  its  author  was  known  as  *'  Monk "  Lewis.  He 
wrote  various  other  stories  of  the  same  general  class. 
William  Beckford's  Vathek  is  an  Oriental  romance,  illus- 
trating the  same  romantic  tendencies  but  with  a  somewhat 
different  atmosphere.  A  third  type  of  novel  is  represented 
by  William  Godwin's  Caleb  Williams.  Its  author  was  a 
political  philosopher,  and  he  used  the  novel  as  an  instrument 
of  social  and  political  reform.  All  three  types  of  novel  were 
afterward  to  receive  a  much  fuller  and  finer  development. 
They  are  interesting  chiefly  for  this  reason  and  because  of 
their  relation  to  the  general  movements  of  the  age.  The 
realistic  novel  illustrates  the  ever  growing  interest  in  ordi- 


THE  AGE  OF  BURNS  (17S0-1800)  257 

nary  men  and  women,  while  the  political  or  social  novel 
carries  this  democratic  spirit  so  far  as  to  become  revolution- 
ary. The  '*  Gothic  "  or  mediceval  novel  is,  of  course,  associ- 
ated with  the  great  romantic  movement  which  has  so 
powerfully  affected  all  branches  of  literature. 

William  Cowper  was  born  in  the  Age  of  Pope,  lived 
all  through  the  Age  of  Johnson  without  producing  any 
literary  work  of  note,  and  began  his  career  as  wiuiam 
a  poet  when  he  was  some  fifty  years  of  age,  Cowper 
at  about  the  beginning  of  the  period  now  under  review. 
His  timid,  shrinking,  and  somew^hat  morbid  nature  was 
seriously  affected  by  an  unfortunate  love  affair  and  by 
other  experiences  of  his  early  life  ;  and  as  a  consequence,  his 
mind  was  disordered.  The  promising  and  happy  career 
which  seemed  assured  to  him  through  the  powerful 
influence  of  a  distinguished  family  was  bitterly  blighted, 
and  Cowper  withdrew  into  a  rural  retirement  on  a  small 
allowance.  All  his  life,  he  was  afflicted  with  an  extreme 
melancholia,  passing  at  times  over  the  verge  of  insanity. 
An  intensely  religious  man,  he  despaired  of  his  own  sal- 
vation and  believed  that  he  was  doomed  to  be  a  castaway. 
In  his  own  pathetic  words, 

1  was  a  stricken  deer  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since  :  witli  many  an  arrow  deep  infixed 
My  panting  side  was  charged,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  sliades. 
There  was  I  found  by  One  who  had  Himself 
Been  liurt  by  the  archers. 

Death  was  long  in  coming ;  for  he  lived  until  the  last  year 
of  the  century,  carefully  tended  for  many  years  by  dear 
friends,  the  most  devoted  of  whom  was  Mrs.  Unwin.  His 
filial  tenderness  toward  her  is  expressed  in  his  beautiful 
|)Ocm  7'o  Mary.  His  poetical  work  hc^an  during  his 
residence  at  Oliicy,  with  the  Unwins,  and  covered  only 
about  ten  or  twelve  years.      During  the  last  ten  years  of 


258  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

his  life,  he  was  afflicted  with  both  bodily  and  mental  disease, 
and  drew  toward  the  close  of  his  allotted  threescore  years 
and  ten  in  extreme  misery.  He  died  in  the  mood  of 
religious  despair  so  terribly  expressed  in  The  Castaivay, 
where  he  likens  his  fate  to  that  of  a  sailor  lost  overboard 
at  sea. 

Considering  the  circumstances  of  his  life  and  the  short- 
ness of  his  Hterary  career,  Cowper's  work  is  remarkable, 
Cow  er's  ^^^^  ^"^  quantity  and  in  range.  It  began  with 
Early  Poems  the  Oliiey  Hyfiifis,  some  of  which  give  utterance 
to  the  deepest  religious  faith  and  devotion.  When  we 
recall  that  he  was  the  author  of  such  a  hymn  as  that 
beginning, 

There  is  a  fountain  fill'd  with  blood, 

the  pathos  of  his  rehgious  despair  is  vastly  deepened  by 
the  contrast  with  his  religious  fervor.  His  next  attempts 
were  in  the  direction  of  poetical  essays  and  satires  after 
the  manner  of  an  earlier  time.  These  were  not  very  suc- 
cessful ;  but  it  was  difficult  for  a  man  of  Cowper's  temper- 
ament to  break  suddenly  or  consciously  with  the  received 
poetic  tradition.  He  was  to  be  a  leader  in  new  ways, 
but  he  was  not  by  nature  a  revolutionist.  The  original 
quality  in  his  work  was  the  result  of  his  peculiar  individ- 
uality and  of  his  isolation  from  the  world  rather  than 
of  any  conscious  revolutionary  purpose.  Such  poems  as 
TJie  Progress  of  Error,  T^'iitJi,  Hope,  Charity,  Conversa- 
tion, Retirement,  and  Table  Talk  show  him  still  subject 
to  the  classical  influences  under  which  he  had  grown  up. 
The  personal  element  in  them  is  the  result  of  Cowper's 
devout  religious  spirit  and  of  his  dehcate  humor.  This 
humor  —  so  strange  when  we  think  of  Cowper's  terrible 
mental  sufferings  —  is  still  further  illustrated  by  The 
Divertijig  History  of  John  Gilpin.  The  story  of  John  Gil- 
pin's ride  is  one  of  the  best-known  pieces  of  humor  in 
English  poetry. 


THE  AGE  OF  BURNS  (1780-1800)  259 

Cowper's  masterpiece  is  TJic  Task.  It  was  suggested 
by  Lady  Austin,  who  bade  him  sing  of  "  the  Sofa." 
Cowper    did    begin    with    that    subject,    and    it 

'^  "^  '  Cowper's 

aptly  illustrates  his  facility  in  writing  good  task  and 
blank  verse  on  almost  any  theme,  as  well  as  the  "  °*™^ 
fact  that  the  writing  of  poetry  was  to  him  chiefly  an 
intellectual  diversion  from  his  distressing  maladies.  "The 
Task  "  that  had  been  set  for  him  grew  on  his  hands  ;  and 
he  wrote  a  long  poem  dealing  with  various  aspects  of  the 
country  life  that  he  knew  so  well.  Here  he  reveals  him- 
self as  a  genuine  and  original  poet  of  nature.  His  treat- 
ment is  simple,  unaffected,  and  sincere  ;  and  it  is  because 
he  wrote  without  artifice  of  what  he  thoroughly  understood 
that  his  method  in  the  handling  of  nature  was  a  revelation 
to  his  age.  His  treatment  is  not  unmixed  with  didacticism  ; 
but  he  had  the  true  feeling  for  nature,  and  a  gift  of 
minute  natural  description  which  has  left  the  world  richer 
by  some  of  its  most  faithful  and  charming  poetic  pictures 
of  rural  sights  and  scenes.  In  addition  to  Cowper's  re- 
ligious spirit  and  his  contribution  to  the  poetical  treat- 
ment of  nature,  it  is  altogether  natural  that  his  poetry 
should  associate  him  with  the  emotional  temper  of  his  age. 
Emotionalism  with  him  was  no  matter  of  theory  or  of 
conscious  poetic  intention.  It  sprang  from  the  deep  life 
sources  of  his  nature.  His  religious  fervor,  his  profound 
melancholy,  his  strong  natural  affection,  all  led  him  to 
emotional  expression.  His  lines  To  Hfnry  are  deeply 
affecting.  His  poem  On  the  Receipt  of  uiy  Mothers 
Picture  out  of  Norfolk  is  touched  with  a  melancholy 
tenderness.  Above  all.  The  Castazuay,  his  most  poignant 
poem,  sounds  the  note  of  profound  and  unfeigned  despair. 
The  same  awful  note  is  heard  in  the  conclusion  ot  one  of 
his  lesser  poems : 

I,  tempest-tossed,  and  wrecked  at  last, 
Come  home  to  jwrt  no  more. 


260  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

Much  inferior  to  Cowper  in  poetic  gift  and  also  in  per- 
sonal interest  is  George  Crabbe.  In  form,  his  poetry 
George  clings  to  the  old  classical  tradition,  but  there  is 

Crabbe  much  in  its  content  and  historical  significance 

that  is  important.  It  is  this  alone  that  need  detain  our 
attention  here.  Crabbe's  reputation  was  estabhshed  by 
The  Village,  a  poem  in  which  he  describes  the  life  and 
scenery  of  an  obscure  fishing  hamlet  on  the  coast  of 
Suffolk.  He  had  a  remarkable  gift  for  describing  nature, 
especially  in  its  gloomier  and  fiercer  aspects ;  but  beyond 
this  was  his  power  of  depicting  the  wretched  and  sordid 
life  of  the  poor.  Crabbe  spared  no  coarse  or  evil  detail 
in  drawing  his  reahstic  pictures  ;  and  they  are  stern  and 
gloomy  even  to  pessimism.  Soon  after  writing  The  Village, 
Crabbe  ceased  altogether  from  poetry  for  over  twenty 
years,  and  then  took  up  the  same  themes  again  in  such 
poems  as  TJic  Borough  and  Tales  of  the  Hall.  He  had 
then  fallen  upon  a  new  age,  but  the  quality  of  his  work 
was  unchanged,  and  belonged  essentially  to  the  eighteenth 
century.  It  will  readily  be  seen  that  his  work  connects 
him,  though  in  a  peculiar  fashion,  with  the  naturalistic 
movement  and  more  especially  with  the  poetic  treatment 
of  common  men  and  common  things.  His  emotion  was 
grim  and  stern,  and  certainly  had  nothing  in  it  of  mere 
sentimentalism.  His  realism  is  at  the  opposite  extreme 
from  much  of  the  prevailing  romanticism  of  his  day. 
These  lines  from  The  Village  convey  the  impression  of  his 
characteristic  attitude : 

No ;  cast  by  fortune  on  a  frowning  coast, 
Which  neither  groves  nor  happy  valleys  boast ; 
Where  other  cares  than  those  the  Muse  relates, 
And  other  shepherds  dwell  with  other  mates  ; 
By  such  examples  taught,  I  paint  the  cot, 
As  Truth  will  paint  it  and  as  bards  will  not. 

Crabbe  is  the  most  reahstic  of  English  poets  ;  William 


THE  AGE  OF  BURNS  (1780-1S00)  261 

Blake  is  the  most  extremely  fantastic  and  idealistic.  He 
was,  in  very  truth,  "  of  imagination  all  compact."  wiiuam 
There  was  in  him  a  corresponding  weakness  —  ^^''* 
not  to  say  failure — of  the  logical  faculty.  He  thought 
in  pictures  and  symbols,  and  these  images  of  his  thought 
had  the  utmost  vividness  and  distinctness.  We  can  hardly 
appreciate  his  poetry  without  knowing  that  he  was  also  a 
painter.  Painting  was  doubtless  his  natural  province,  for 
there  imagery  and  symbolism  might  be  suflficient  unto 
themselves.  When  he  turned  to  poetry,  he  endeavored  to 
make  language  do  the  work  of  painting,  and  became 
thereby  often  vague  and  incoherent.  It  is  hard  to  say 
that  Blake  was  mad,  but  it  is  quite  as  hard  to  say  that  he 
was  entirely  sane.  He  was  a  typical  visionary,  and  many 
of  his  visions  had  for  him  all  the  reaHty  of  actual  presences. 
No  doubt  he  was  sincere  when  he  claimed  to  have  seen  as 
a  child  of  four  God's  head  at  the  window,  to  have  talked 
with  Jesus  Christ,  with  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  with 
Homer,  Dante,  and  Milton.  Out  of  such  conditions, 
naturally  grew  his  so-called  Prophetic  Books,  which  are 
vague  beyond  the  limit  of  comprehension.  His  literary 
fame  rests  rather  upon  those  lighter  poems  in  which  now 
and  again  a  childlike  simplicity  flashes  out  into  sudden 
beauty.  It  is  almost  as  though  Blake  became  a  true  poet 
only  in  his  rare  and  happy  moments  and  by  a  sort  of 
fortunate  accident.  It  is  hard  to  interpret  the  character  of 
this  mystic  and  dreamer  —  so  complex  and  so  strange  ;  but 
the  best  of  his  Songs  of  Innocence  and  So)igs  of  lixperieticc 
wc  may  appreciate,  and  give  thanks.  Few  I^nglish  poets 
have  been  capable  of  a  rarer  union  of  strength  and  sweet- 
ness than  Blake  jnanifests  at  his  best.  Tlie  pictorial 
(luality  of  these  and  other  poems  is  suggested  by  the  fact 
that  Blake  printed  them  from  copper  plates  in  which  text 
and  illustrative  designs  were  interwoven,  the  sketches 
being  engraved  and  colored    by  his  own  hand.     One    of 


262  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

his  best-known  poems  is  TJie  Tiger,  in  which  occurs  this 
characteristic  stanza : 

When  the  stars  threw  down  their  spears, 
And  watered  heaven  with  their  tears, 
Did  He  smile  His  work  to  see? 
Did  He  who  made  the  lamb  make  thee? 

Blake  is  a  poet  of  nature,  and  one  of  the  most  exquisite. 
He  is  a  romantic  poet,  and  one  of  the  most  extreme.  He 
is  a  rehgious  poet,  and  one  of  the  most  rapt  and  mystical. 
He  is  an  emotional  poet,  ranging  from  childish  delight 
to  profound  religious  awe.  He  is  an  intensely  individual 
poet  —  one  of  the  rarest  and  strangest  personalities  in  the 
whole  range  of  English  poetry. 

Robert  Burns  was  no  less  distinct  an  individual,  but  he 

was  much  less  eccentric  and   much  more  in  touch  with 

ordinary  human  life.     It  is  difficult  for  the  com- 

Robert  Burns  r      1      1  •  1  r     • 

mon  man  to  feel  himself  in  sympathy  with 
Blake ;  but  probably  no  poet  has  ever  appealed  more 
strongly  than  Burns  to  the  general  human  heart.  His 
poetry  was  not  essentially  better  than  Blake's  at  its  best, 
but  it  was  broader,  fuller,  richer,  and  more  human.  It  is 
this  human  quality  in  his  work  that  comes  first  to  our 
thought,  and  probably  nothing  comes  nearer  to  accounting 
for  his  universal  popularity  as  a  poet.  He  had  Crabbe's 
knowledge  of  common  men  and  the  hard  conditions  of 
their  life,  as  he  had  Crabbe's  directness  and  sincerity  of 
method  in  portrayal ;  but  he  had  more  than  Crabbe's  sym- 
pathy with  the  common  lot,  as  he  had  vastly  more  than 
Crabbe's  poetic  genius.  If  we  set  Burns  alongside  of 
Cowper  for  a  moment,  we  shall  see  that  the  two  men  were 
alike  in  at  least  one  respect  —  their  isolation.  Each  was 
left  to  his  own  rural  and  obscure  world,  to  work  out  the 
suggestions  of  his  genius  in  his  own  way.  Both  had  some 
acquaintance  with  previous  literature,  and  both  were  some- 
what affected  by  the  old  classical  influences ;  but  neither 


THE    AGE   OF   BURNS    (17S0-1800)  263 

was  deeply  touched  or  strongly  swerved  from  his  own 
original  way.  Both  were  poets  of  nature  —  direct,  observ- 
ant, sincere ;  but  the  methods  of  the  two  were  as  different 
as  their  spirit.  In  most  other  respects,  Burns  was  in 
strong  contrast  with  Cowper.  The  one  was  calm,  medita- 
tive, serene,  though  deeply  passionate ;  the  other  was 
impulsive,  vigorous,  impetuous,  moved  by  passion  unre- 
strained. The  one  was  frail  with  disease  and  trembled  on 
the  verge  of  madness ;  the  other  was  sound  to  the  core 
and  thoroughly  sane.  The  one  rounded  out  a  life  of 
seventy  years,  nursing  all  the  strength  of  his  delicate  being 
and  concentrating  practically  all  of  his  literary  work  into  his 
si.xth  decade  ;  the  other,  likewise,  spent  less  than  ten  years 
in  poetical  work  and  in  his  eager  pursuit  of  the  joys  of 
living,  but  flung  away  his  life  in  the  spending. 

As  we  have  already  partly  suggested.  Burns  was  the 
central  figure  of  his  age,  though  so  much  apart  from  its 
life.  He  felt  instinctively  —  perhaps  more  or  Burns  and 
less  unconsciously — all  the  impulses  that  were  WsAge 
stirring  the  minds  of  men  in  his  day,  and  he  was  in  touch 
with  all  the  great  tendencies  that  were  making  the  onward 
current  of  English  life  and  literature.  His  nature  was 
open  on  all  sides,  and  he  felt  the  mighty  blowing  of  all 
intellectual  winds. 

He  was  a  poet  of  nature,  and  that,  too,  in  the  fullest 
and  largest  sense.  The  natural  forms  of  his  native  Scot- 
tish countryside — hills  and  vales,  fields  and  APoetof 
streams,  trees  and  flowers  and  growing  crops  —  Mature 
he  knew  by  daily  contact,  and  loved  them  with  a  poet's 
joy.  The  birds  and  beasts  that  he  touches  with  his  poetic 
fancy  are  such  as  had  come  under  his  actual  eye.  Toward 
all  these  creatures,  his  feeling  is  that  of  an  elder  brother. 
To  the  mountain  daisy  — "  wee,  modest,  crimson-tipp«l:d 
Howcr  "  —  which  he  has  turned  down  with  his  plough,  he 
speaks    in    accents   of    sympathetic    tenderness.      To    the 


264  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

field-mouse,  whose  nest  has  been  ruined  by  that  same 
ploughshare,  he  says,  in  words  broadly  significant  of  his 
attitude  toward  the  whole  natural  creation  : 

I'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion 
Has  broken  Nature's  social  union, 
An'  justifies  that  ill  opinion, 

Which  makes  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor,  earth-born  companion, 

An'  fellow-mortal! 

With  the  common  human  lives  that  belong  to  these  natural 
surroundings,  he  has  a  sympathy  even  deeper  and  more 
intense.  Indeed,  in  his  poetry,  nature  is  of  interest  chiefly 
as  it  reflects  human  passion  and  experience  by  sympathy 
or  by  contrast.  Speaking  of  Jean  Armour,  whom  he  after- 
ward married,  he  says : 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair; 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu'  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air. 

The  forlorn  maiden,  mourning  for  her  lost  love,  sings  : 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 
How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair  ! 

How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds, 
And  I  sae  weary  fu'  o'  care  ! 

The  human  interest  of  Burns  takes  an  even  wider 
sweep.  He  has  learned  from  these  humble  ploughmen  and 
peasants  who  were  of  his  own  blood  that  there 
Common  is  divine  quality  in  the  lowliest  human  lives.  As 
umamty  ^  matter  of  intimate  knowledge  and  of  profound 
conviction,  he  understands  that  men  are  to  be  judged 
by  their  own  inherent  worth  and  not  by  the  accidents  of 
wealth,  rank,  learning,  or  position.  In  T/ie  CotUrs  Sat- 
urday Night,  he  has  drawn  an  immortal  picture  of  a 
Scottish  peasant  family,  like  that  which  gathered  around 
his  own  father's  hearth.  The  poem  is  written  in  the  Spen- 
serian stanza,  but  how  different  from   the  atmosphere  of 


THE   AGE   OF   BURNS   (1780-1800)  265 

Spenser's  faeryland  is  that  of  this  Scottish  fireside. 
Nothing  could  more  emphatically  mark  the  gulf  that  lies 
between  the  age  of  the  Renaissance  and  this  age  of  demo- 
cratic feeling.  In  Tcxui  O' S/hdUci;  we  have  a  glimpse  of 
another  side  of  this  same  peasant  life.  Tam,  planted  by 
the  ale-house  fire  with  "  his  ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  crony," 
is  a  drunken  Ayrshire  peasant.  As  he  rides  home  in  the 
stormy  night,  his  head  filled  with  country  superstitions  — 
as  he  sees  in  "  Alloway's  auld  haunted  kirk  "  the  vision 
of  the  witches'  dance,  and  is  chased  by  "  the  hellish  legion  " 
over  the  Brig  o'  Doon  —  he  becomes  in  some  sort  a  hero 
of  romance  througli  the  magic  of  Burns's  fancy.  Not  alone 
such  transcripts  from  connnon  life  does  Burns  present  to 
us.  His  poetry  is  filled  with  human  passion,  and  not  least 
with  the  exceedingly  human  passion  of  his  own  ardent 
nature.  Most  of  all  with  the  passion  of  love,  which  has 
poured  so  much  of  haunting  music  into  his  verse.  This 
love  was  not  always  sanctified,  but  it  was  certainly  fervid, 
and  sometimes  as  pure  as  it  was  passionate.  His  verses  to 
Jean  Armour  have  been  already  referred  to.  There  are 
verses  also  to  many  others.  Mary  Morison,  My  Nafiic,  O, 
To  Mary  in  If  raven,  FarcxvcU  to  Nancy,  HigJdand  Mary  — 
these  are  some  of  the  most  beautiful  of  his  numerous  love- 
songs.  None  of  his  lines  go  deeper  into  the  heart  than 
these  from  his  Farewell  to  Xancy : 

Had  we  never  loved  sae  kindly. 
Had  we  never  loved  sae  blindly, 
Never  met  —  or  never  parted. 
We  had  ne'er  been  broken-hearted! 

That  he  can  express  other  feeling  than  his  own,  the  world 
knows  by  such  songs  as  Auld  Lani;  Syne,  John  Anderson 
my  Jo,  Bannockhnrn,  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a'  that,  and 
many  songs  that  portray  the  passion  of  other  lovers.  All 
his  poetry  shows  the  breadth  and  intensity  of  his  sym- 
pathy  with    his    "  fellow-mortals,"    as   well   as    with    the 


266  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

world  of  nature.     That  his  pity   can  take  an  even  wider 
range  is  illustrated  in  his  Address  to  the  Deil: 

Hear  me,  auld  Hangie,  for  a  wee, 
An'  let  poor  damned  bodies  be ; 

and  again,  to  the  Devil  himself : 

But,  fare  you  weel,  auld  Nickie-ben! 
O  wad  3'e  tak  a  thought  an'  men' I 
Ye  aiblins  might  —  I  dinna  ken  — 

Still  hae  a  stake  — 
I'm  wae  to  think  upo'  yon  den, 

Ev'n  for  your  sake! 

Burns's  association  with  the  emotional  tendency  of  his 
age  has  been  already  suggested  by  what  has  been  said  of 
Burns's Emo-  ^^^  treatment  of  human  passion.  He  was  him- 
tionaiism  gg^f  Q^e  of  the  most  passiouatc  of  all  English 
poets ;  he  exercised  the  utmost  freedom  in  the  expression 
of  his  emotion,  from  broadest  humor  to  the  most  heart- 
breaking sorrow  ;  and  he  is  the  representative  singer  of  an 
age  in  which  emotion  had  again  come  to  its  rights  in  Eng- 
lish poetry.  Enough  has  also  been  said  or  implied  as  to 
Burns's  Ro-  the  Comparatively  Small  element  of  romanticism 
manticism  -j^  Bums's  poctry.  He  was  not  a  typical  roman- 
tic poet,  and  his  work  should  go  far  toward  convincing 
us  that  Romanticism  is  not  the  central  literary  movement 
of  the  time.  Nevertheless,  he  was  by  no  means  devoid 
of  the  romantic  spirit.  He  knew  how  to  discover  and  to 
interpret  the  romance  of  common  life  and  of  the  ordinary 
human  heart.  His  most  typical  poem  in  this  particular 
is  Tarn  O'Skanter,  whose  romantic  significance  has  already 
been  suggested. 

A  consideration  of  Burns's  attitude  toward  religion  in- 
volves judgment  of  his  life  and  character  as  well  as  of  his 
poetry.  We  can  not  touch  upon  such  a  subject  without  a 
mixture  of  feelings,  and  should  not  except  in  the  mood 
of   tender  sympathy  and  broad    charity.     His    wildness, 


THE   AGE   OF   BURNS    (1780-1S00)  267 

his  passions,  his  dissipations,  his  excesses  of  many  kinds, 
need  not  be   denied    and   can  not    be    excused.  „ 

Burns's 

He  himself  would  be  the  last  to  palliate  them.  Religious 
Nevertheless,  they  can  be  forgiven,  and  there 
is  no  need  that  they  should  be  unduly  emphasized.  We 
can  afford  to  accept  his  poetry  as  it  is,  thanking  God 
for  such  a  genius,  and  committing  to  His  infinite  mercy 
all  that  was  faulty  in  the  nature  of  one  of  the  greatest  of 
His  poets.  If  we  have  any  touch  of  Hurns's  own  sympa- 
thetic nature,  we  shall  see  that  beneath  the  stormy  surface 
of  his  life  there  was  a  true  human  heart  and  a  genuinely 
religious  spirit.  Religious  cant,  hypocrisy,  and  pretence 
he  hated  with  the  fervor  of  a  generous  nature  and  ridiculed 
with  all  the  power  of  his  humor  and  his  scorn.  For  true 
religion  he  displays  nothing  but  reverence  and  sympathy. 
It  is  in  such  a  spirit  that  he  depicts  the  scene  in  The  Cotter  s 
Saturday  Night,  as 

Kneeling  down,  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King, 
The  saint,  the  father,  and  the  husband  prays. 

He  knew  well,  moreover,  that 

From  scenes  like  these  old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs. 

Speaking  more  directly  for  himself,  he  thus  sums  up  the 

matter : 

When  ranting  round  in  pleasure's  ring, 

Religion  may  Ije  blinded  ; 
Or,  if  she  gie  a  random  sting, 

It  may  be  little  minded  ; 
But  when  on  life  we're  tempest-driv'n  — 

A  conscience  but  a  canker, 
A  correspondence  fix'd  wi'  Heav'n, 

Is  sure  a  noble  anchor  ! 

The  general  tenor  of  his  life  and  of  his  poetry  allows  us 
to  believe  that  Burns  did  have  that  "  anchor  of  the  soul, 
both  sure  and  steadfast." 

Hurns's  marked  and  forceful  indiviiluality  luulerlying  all 
his  actions,  his  strongly  individualistic  convictions  under- 


268  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

lying  all  his  thought,  are  not  difficult  to  discover  or  to 
Bums'sin-  appreciate.  He  preached  Individualism,  directly 
dividuausm  -^^  ^^^^  poetry  as  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a'  that  and 
certain  passages  of  The  Cotter  s  Saturday  Night,  indirectly 
in  the  essential  tone  and  spirit  of  all  his  poetry.  He  gave 
in  his  own  person  a  splendid  example  of  Individualism. 
This  ploughman  and  son  of  a  poor  Scotch  peasant  broke 
through  the  restrictions  of  his  lowly  rank  and  made  his 
name  known  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  He  shook  off  the 
classical  fetters  that  other  men  had  not  been  able  entirely 
to  break,  and  spoke  his  free  and  fearless  word  to  an  age 
that  must  needs  listen.  He  left  his  plough  in  the  furrow 
and  consorted  with  the  greatest  men  of  his  time  on  equal 
terms,  proud  and  independent  as  the  best,  and  then  went 
back  to  his  plough  again.  He  made  men  forget  his  hum- 
ble origin  as  he  challenged  social  rank  and  privilege, 
religious  formalism  and  insincerity,  political  tyranny  and 
oppression. 

More  even  than  all  this  was  the  strongly  individual 
character  of  his  poetic  genius  and  work.  He  was  a  lyric 
His  Individ-  poet,  the  greatest  pure  singer  that  England  had 
uai  Genius  yet  Seen.  Hissong  was  f  ull  of  cxquisitc  music,but 
it  was  full  also  of  that  deeper  thing  in  lyric  poetry,  warm  and 
genuine  human  passion.  Here  were  "  tears  and  laughter  for 
all  time."  Here  was  that  "  spark  o'  Nature's  fire  "  which  to 
him  was  better  than  all  learning,  full  compensation  for  all 
toil,  because  it  could  "  touch  the  heart."  His  homely  Scot- 
tish dialect  has  become  forever  a  classic  speech  because  it 
has  been  touched  by  his  genius.  No  EngHsh  poet  has  ever 
come  closer  than  he  to  the  daily  lives  of  men ;  for  wherever 
the  English  language  is  spoken,  his  songs  have  been  sung 
for  a  hundred  years,  and  their  music  does  not  yet  die 
away.     Wordsworth  spoke  most  truly  : 

Deep  in  the  general  heart  of  men, 
His  power  survives. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832) 

The  eighteenth  century  was  for  the  most  part  an  age 
of  authority  and  of  classicism.  Toward  the  close  of  the 
century  had  come  the  triumph  of  new  and  directly  an- 
tagonistic principles,  preparing  the  way  for  a  great  and 
original  literary  period  during  the  earlier  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  The  Age  of  Wordsworth  was  to  be 
distinctively  and  preeminently  the  age  of  Indi- 
vidualism.    It  was  an  age  of  great  individual  ?^^*^*°' 

°  _    °  Individualism 

geniuses,  many  of  them  creating  splendid  bod- 
ies of  literary  work  and  establishing  their  places  among 
the  foremost  writers  of  the  literature.  It  was  an  age  of 
great  individualistic  achievement ;  for  although  its  writers 
were  all  moved  in  the  main  by  the  same  general  spirit,  the 
work  of  each  of  the  great  leaders  was  surprisingly  distinct 
and  peculiar.  It  was  an  age  of  great  individualistic  ideas; 
for  Individualism  was  in  the  air,  was  rapidly  permeating 
the  whole  mass  of  society,  and  was  passing  on  from  a  mere 
democratic  principle  to  a  concrete  realization  in  actual 
democracy.  The  literary  expression  of  this  individual- 
istic spirit  was  in  large  measure  a  further  development 
of  tendencies  which  we  have  already  traced.  Roman- 
tic literature  was  advanced  and  broadened  by  men  like 
Scott,  Coleridge,  liyron,  Shelley,  and  Keats.  The  poetic 
treatment  of  nature  was  brought  by  Wordsworth  to 
its  greatest  depth  and  significance.  The  recognition  of 
the  worth,  the  dignity,  and  still  further  the  rights,  of  the 
common  man  affected  the  work  of  many  writers,  and  de- 
veloped in  some  ca.ses  into  a  decidedly  revolutionary  sen- 
timent.     Kmotion   prevailed   in  literature  as  it   had   never 

3C*) 


270  INDIVIDUALISM   (i 780-1832) 

done  since  the  days  of  Milton,  save  in  the  single  case  of 
Burns ;  but  emotionalism  was  no  longer  a  distinct  ten- 
dency, but  took  its  place  as  a  commonly  accepted  matter 
of  fact.  Much  the  same  might  be  said  of  religion.  The 
moral  and  religious  tone  of  the  age  and  of  its  literary 
work  was  higher  than  that  of  the  eighteenth  century ;  but 
there  was  no  decided  religious  movement,  and  no  distinct 
religious  tendency  in  literature'.  Beyond  the  development 
of  these  older  tendencies,  there  was  much  that  was  new 
and  original  in  the  individualistic  literature  of  the  time, 
but  it  is  hardly  to  be  defined  in  general  terms*  It  was 
due  to  the  decided  and  peculiar  personality  of  many  indi- 
vidual writers,  and  is  best  to  be  felt  and  appreciated  in 
connection  with  the  study  of  their  works. 

The  high  priest  of  this  new  literary  dispensation  was 
William  Wordsworth.  He  more  than  any  other  man  was 
its  leader  and  its  great  central  figure.  He  was  not  so  in 
any  such  sense  as  Dryden,  Pope,  and  Johnson  had  been 
Limits  of  the  ^^  their  respective  periods.  The  age  of  the 
Age  literary  dictator  had  passed  away  with  the  de- 

cadence of  the  principle  of  classical  authority,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  present  period  was  too  individualistic  to  bow 
down  to  any  man,  however  great,  as  a  literary  lawgiver. 
Indeed,  the  influence  of  Wordsworth  was  of  exceedingly 
slow  growth  and  hardly  received  full  recognition  much 
before  his  own  death.  This  is  illustrated  in  a  minor  way 
by  the  fact  that,  in  181 3,  when  Wordsworth  had  already 
written  much  of  his  best  poetry,  Robert  Southey,  a 
younger  man  and  a  much  inferior  poet,  was  appointed 
poet-laureate.  Southey  held  that  office  until  his  death  in 
1843;  Wordsworth  was  then  appointed  and  held  it  until 
his  own  death  in  1850.  If  the  age  is  fittingly  designated 
by  the  name  of  Wordsworth,  it  is  because  later  genera- 
tions than  his  own  have  recognized  him  as  the  most  rep- 
resentative   literary   genius   of    his    day.      His    long   life, 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  271 

covering  the  years  from  1770  to  1850,  was  much  more 
than  coextensive  with  the  proper  Hmits  of  the  period. 
Before  the  death  of  Cowper  in  1800,  his  genius  had 
already  received  wide  recognition  through  the  pubHcation 
of  his  Lyrical  Ballads.  He  continued  to  exercise  his 
poetical  powers  till  well  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  al- 
thouglf  his  literary  activity  practically  ceased  as  early  as 
1835.  Even  before  the  latter  date,  the  age  was  practically 
over,  and  the  literature  of  a  new  period  was  well  under 
way.  There  was  naturally  much  overlapping  of  literary 
work;  but  probably  the  year  1832  best  marks  the  point 
at  which  the  old  period  may  be  regarded  as  passing  into 
the  new.  That  was  the  year  of  the  death  of  Scott,  one  of 
the  most  popular  and  influential  literary  men  of  the  age. 
It  was  the  year  of  the  death  of  Goethe,  the  greatest  lit- 
erary figure  of  the  continent.  It  was  the  year  of  the 
great  Reform  Bill,  which  marks  the  beginning  of  the 
extension  of  the  elective  franchise  and  of  the  growth  of 
practical  democracy  in  England.  In  the  next  year  Brown- 
ing published  Pauline,  Carlyle  published  Sartor  Rcsartus, 
and  Tennyson  published  his  first  collected  Poems.  These 
are  among  the  most  notable  men  and  works  of  the  next 
period ;  and  from  this  point  the  newer  literature  grew  rap- 
idly, while  only  a  few  scattered  works  were  published  by 
eminent  leaders  of  the  older  period.  The  present  chap- 
ter, therefore,  will  aim  to  discuss  literary  work  that  lies  for 
the  most  part  between  the  years  1800  and  1832,  although 
it  will  to  some  extent  overpass  those  limits  at  either  end. 

The  eighteenth  century  was  distinctively  an  age  of 
prose.  The  Age  of  Wordsworth — like  the  Age  of 
Shakespeare  and  unlike  the  Age  of  Tennyson 

'  r  Character  of 

—  was  decidedly  an  age  of  poetry.     Its   great  Literature  in 
men    of    genius    wore    mostly    eminent    in    the    "^   " 
poetical     field,    distinction    was    more    easily  achieved    in 
poetry  than  in  prusc,  the  general  taste  was  decidedly  set  in 


272  INDIVIDUALISM    (i 780-1832) 

the  poetic  direction.  This  fact  has  helped  to  mark  it  as 
the  second  great  age  in  our  literary  history  ;  for  poetry  is  the 
highest  form  of  literary  expression,  and  poetry  seems  to 
have  been  most  in  harmony  with  the  noblest  powers  of  the 
English  genius.  There  was  also  a  noteworthy  develop- 
ment of  the  novel  which  was  already  beginning  to  establish 
itself  as  the  favorite  literary  form  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  Miscellaneous  prose  was  by  no  means  without 
its  distinguished  representatives,  and  the  age  has  given  to 
English  literature  some  of  its  noblest  examples  of  prose 
style.  The  drama  was  the  only  great  literary  form  that 
was  not  adequately  represented.  Many  of  the  great  poets, 
as  well  as  other  writers,  tried  their  hands  at  dramatic  work  ; 
but  there  is  probably  not  a  single  great  drama  in  the 
stricter  sense  of  the  term.  The  best  that  we  can  say  is 
that  there  was  some  really  noble  poetry  written  in  nomi- 
nally dramatic  form.  During  the  nineteenth  century,  the 
drama  seems  to  have  been  practically  superseded  by  the 
novel  as  a  medium  for  the  portrayal  of  its  complex  forms 
of  life  and  character.  It  remains  to  be  said  that  the 
literature  of  the  age  was  exceedingly  rich  and  varied. 
There  were  many  excellent  writers,  and  there  was  a  vast 
body  of  excellent  work.  Under  these  conditions,  it  be- 
comes almost  an  absolute  necessity  to  confine  our  attention 
to  the  greatest  writers  and  to  those  who  best  represent  the 
essential  spirit  of  the  age.  In  our  consideration  of  these, 
we  shall  see  —  what  more  detailed  study  would  only  serve 
to  confirm  —  that  the  great  literary  impulse  of  the  age  is 
the  impulse  of  Individualism,  manifesting  itself — most 
naturally  —  in  a  wonderful  variety  of  forms. 

William  Wordsworth  was  born  at  Cockermouth  in  Cum- 
Wiiiiam  bcrlaud,  and  went  to  school  as  a  boy  at  Hawks- 

wordsworth  j^^^j^  -^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^ieavt  of  the  beautiful  Eng- 
lish Lake  District.  It  was  in  these  early  days  that  he 
learned  to  love,  and  in  some  measure  to  understand,  those 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  273 

aspects  of  nature  which  he  was  afterward  to  portray  with 
such  marvelous  poetic  power.  At  seventeen,  he  went  to 
Cambridge  University,  where  he  became  a  member  of  St. 
John's  College.  The  life  here  was  not  altogether  con- 
genial to  him  ;  but,  nevertheless,  his  contemplative  and 
receptive  nature  drew  much  from  study  and  from  the 
associations  of  the  historic  place.  His  love  for  nature  was 
still  further  developed  by  his  country  wanderings ;  and 
among  other  evidences  of  his  broadening  intelligence  was 
a  rather  curious  poetic  interest  in  the  higher  mathematics. 
After  leaving  the  University,  he  spent  two  years  in  travel 
on  the  continent,  feeling  with  delight  the  grandeur  of  the 
Alps,  and  coming  into  somewhat  intimate  con- 

.  ,         ,  ,  ^      ,         _  ,      His  Life 

tact  with  the  men  and  events  of  the  trench 
Revolution.  These  two  interests  are  symbolic  of  the  two 
great  passions  of  Wordsworth's  life,  the  passion  for  nature 
and  the  passion  for  humanity.  By  the  ideals  of  the 
Revolution  —  "  Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity  "  —  his  young 
soul  was  stirred  to  its  depths  ;  and  he  planned  to  cast  in 
his  lot  with  the  great  movement.  Just  before  the  frightful 
"  Reign  of  Terror,"  he  was  recalled  to  England  and  was 
probably  thus  saved  from  falling  a  victim  to  his  own 
enthusiasm.  The  excesses  and  final  failure  of  the  Revolu- 
tion brought  about  a  reaction  in  his  mind  and  made  him  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  a  conservative.  He  remained  always  a 
poet  of  liberty  moving  within  the  bounds  of  law,  but  he 
was  opposed  to  violent  revolutionary  outbreak.  This  atti- 
tude was  really  more  in  harmony  with  the  serene  and  steady 
nature  of  the  man,  although  the  remembrance  of  his 
youthful  passion  of  enthusiasm  led  him   to  e.xclaim : 

Bliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  alive. 
But  tu  he  young  was  very  Heaven! 

In    1 797-1 798  he  was  a  neighbor,    in    .Somersetshire,    of 
Coleridge,  who  joined  with   him   in   the  writing  and  ituhli- 


274  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

cation  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads.  After  a  year  in  Germany, 
he  settled  down  in  the  early  days  of  the  nineteenth  century 
to  fifty  years  of  quiet  and  productive  life  in  the  English 
Lake  District  where  his  boyhood  had  been  nourished. 
Here  he  found  his  proper  environment,  and  here  his  genius 
steadily  grew  in  ripeness  and  spiritual  power. 

In  these  surroundings  he  could  be  a  true  poet  of  nature ; 
but  his  earlier  experiences  and  the  natural  constitution  of 
his  own  mind  prepared  him  also  to  be  a  poet  of  humanity 
and  a  poet  of  man's  intellectual  life.  He  felt  himself, 
like  Milton,  to  be  a  dedicated  spirit,  for  whom  the  tasks  of 
poetry  were  no  less  than  a  divine  calling.  His  preparation 
for  these  tasks  has  been  roughly  indicated  by  the  brief 
His  Poetic  outliue  of  his  career.  He  himself  has  fully  elab- 
Deveiopment  q^^^q^  ^^g  course  of  this  preparation  in  one  of 
the  most  famous  of  his  works  —  a  long  poem  in  fourteen 
books,  called  The  Prelude,  in  which  he  sets  forth  the  prin- 
cipal facts  of  his  early  life  and  shows  the  development  of 
his  poetic  faculty.  The  subtitle  of  the  work  —  "Growth 
of  a  Poet's  Mind,  an  Autobiographical  Poem  "  —  indicates 
its  peculiar  purpose,  and  shows  Wordsworth's  superb  self- 
consciousness  and  self-esteem.  He  deemed  the  history  of 
his  own  personal  development  worthy  to  be  unfolded  in  a 
poem  of  heroic  proportions.  It  was  a  splendid  egotism  ; 
but  Wordsworth  was  not  wrong  in  considering  his  own 
spiritual  experiences  to  be  among  the  great  facts  of  Eng- 
lish poetry.  He  delivers  to  us  a  secret  of  his  poetic  great- 
ness when  he  says,  "  I  loved  whate'er  I  saw."  He  tells 
us  in  brief  his  poetic  attitude,  after  many  inward  strivings, 
when  he  declares  that  he 

In  Nature's  presence  stood,  as  now  I  stand, 
A  sensitive  being,  a  creative  soul. 

Wordsworth  stands  in  the  thought  of  the  world  —  and 
justly  —  as  the  greatest  of  all  poets  of  nature.      He  was 


THE    AGE    OF    WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  275 

born  to   that    office.     From  his  very  earliest  years  he  was 
alive    to    the  beauty  and  to    the   spiritual    suggestiveness 
of  the  world  of  nature  around  him.     He  had  the  ThePo«tof 
seeing  eye,  the  receptive  soul,  the  divine  gift  of   Mature 
spiritual  insight.      In  his  youngest  days,  he  could  say  of 

himself : 

The  sounding  cataract 
Haunted  me  like  a  passion  :  the  tall  rock, 
The  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood, 
Their  colors  and  their  forms,  were  then  to  me 
An  appetite  ;  a  feeling  and  a  love. 
That  had  no  need  of  a  remoter  charm. 
By  thought  supplied,  nor  any  interest 
Unborrowed  from  the  eye. 

This  sufficiently  indicates  the  poetic  sensuousness — the 
exquisite  delight  in  all  the  joys  of  the  senses  —  that  lay  at 
the  foundation  of  Wordsworth's  rather  intellectual  genius. 
But  this  was  only  the  foundation.  There  soon  came  into 
his  life  and  into  his  poetry  the  higher  "  charm,  by  thought 
supplied,"  the  deeper  significance  supplied  by  his  un- 
paralleled faculty  of  spiritual  vision.  It  is  not  merely 
accurate  description  of  nature  that  he  gives,  not  merely 
reproduction  of  the  beauty  of  her  myriad  forms.  Nor  is 
it  the  sentiment  of  nature  alone  or  her  reflection  of  the 
passions  and  e.xperiences  of  the  human  soul.  It  is  the 
soul  of  Nature  herself. 

He  is,  therefore,  something  more  than  a  greater  Thom- 
son or  Collins  or  Cowper  or  Burns.  He  is  nature's  in- 
spired seer  and  interpreter.     Nature  to  him  is  a 

'  Spiritual 

divine  symbol,  the  uttered  word  of  the  eternal  interpretation 

»\-  I   ,  1    •.     •       xi  •  f     1   •  I      ,    of  Nature 

thought ;  and  it  is  the  meaning  of  this  symbol 
that  he   attempts,  within  the   range   of  human    powers,  to 
discover  and  to  convey.     Suggesting  the  image  of  a  child, 
applying  to  its  car  a  shell  and  hearing  therein 

Murmurinns,  wherrby  the  monitor  e.xprcssed 
Mysterious  union  with  its  native  sea, 


2/6  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

he  adds, 

Even  such  a  shell  the  universe  itself 
Is  to  the  ear  of  Faith  ;  and  there  are  times, 
I  doubt  not,  when  to  you  it  doth  impart 
Authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things  ; 
Of  ebb  and  flow,  and  ever  during  power; 
And  central  peace,  subsisting  at  the  heart 
Of  endless  agitation. 

It  is  such  "  authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things "  that 
Wordworth's  poetry  aims  to  bring  to  mankind.  Beyond 
all  other  poetry  that  has  ever  been  written,  it  succeeds  in 
suggesting  through  its  treatment  of  natural  appearances 
that  deeper  meaning  of  nature  which  no  human  language 
or  symbol  can  adequately  express. 

To  this  profound  interpretation,  Wordsworth  is  able  to 
give  the  impressive  power  of  artistic  utterance.  He  has 
not  only  "  the  vision  and  the  faculty  divine,"  but  he  has  in 
Idealization  duc  measure  "  the  accomphshment  of  verse." 
cf  Nature  gy  ^^iq  powcr  of  his  imagination,  the  natural 
world  is  idealized  and  clothed  for  us  in 

The  light  that  never  was,  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration,  and  the  Poet's  dream. 

It  is  made  alive,  too,  by  his  emotion ;  for  he  was  endowed, 
not  only  with  the  power  of  minute  observation,  of  graphic 
portrayal,  of  spiritual  interpretation,  of  imaginative  ideal- 
ization, but  with  the  power  also  of  pouring  out  his  heart  in 
passionate  description.  It  is  the  soul  of  nature  that  we 
are  made  to  feel,  but  it  is  also  the  soul  of  Wordsworth. 
He  has  an  intense  love  for  nature  and  a  profound  sympathy 
with  her  various  forms ;  and  this  love  and  sympathy  is 
doubtless  in  large  measure  the  secret  of  his  abiUty  to  dis- 
cover the  manifold  beauties  that  she  has  to  reveal  and  to 
interpret  the  deeper  meanings  which  she  hides  from 
unanointed  eyes. 

Perhaps  no  poetic  doctrine  is  more  pecuHar  to  him  than 


THE    AGE    OF   WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  277 

that  nature  is  informed  by  a  living  spirit  which  animates 
all  her  multitudinous  shapes.     In  one  of  his  earlier  poems, 

he  says, 

And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 

Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes. 

The  faith  here  so  simply  expressed  is  elsewhere  elaborated 
more  fully  and  with  larger  sweep  of  thought.  The  Life  of 
Especially  do  we  find  his  poetic  creed  set  forth  ""^^^^ 
in  his  Lines  composed  above  Tintcrn  Abbey,  on  the  Banks 
of  the  Wye.  The  sensuousness  of  his  earlier  feeling  for 
nature  has  already  been  illustrated  by  a  passage  from  this 
same  poem,  and  the  lines  which  almost  immediately  follow 
are  the  finest  illustration  of  his  further  development  in 
intellectual  and  spiritual  perception  : 

For  I  have  learned 
To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Nor  harsh  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  felt 
A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts  ;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  fiir  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man : 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  thatim])els 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things. 

These  lines  suggest  that  Wordsworth  has  not  only  de- 
rived from  his  deeper  contemplation  of  nature  "  a  sense 
sublime  of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused,"  but 
that  he  has  also  learned  to  hear  "the  still,  sad  music  of 
humanity."  This  leads  us  to  observe  that  in  his  maturity 
his  interest  in  man  was  almost  if  not  quite  equal  APoetof 
to  his  interest  in  nature.  The  human  interest  '^"" 
was  in   part  aroused    in    him   by   his    experiences    in   the 


278  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

broader  world  of  men,  by  his  foreign  travel,  and  especially 
by  his  brief  association  with  the  French  Revolution.  The 
latter  brought  him  into  contact  with  forceful  individuals 
and  with  the  broad  sweep  of  great  human  problems.  Not 
alone  in  this  way,  however,  was  his  interest  in  man  devel- 
oped. He  found  dwelHng  in  the  midst  of  his  native  hills 
human  beings  who  to  him  were  an  organic  part  of  the  great 
whole,  so  vitally  associated  with  nature  that  they  were  hardly 
to  be  moved  out  of  their  place  any  more  than  the  hills  them- 
selves. These  also  were  men,  with  human  passions  and 
experiences  not  really  less  significant  than  those  of  the 
great  leaders  of  the  French  Revolution, 

Wordsworth  was  one  of  the  most  thoroughgoing  of  indi- 
vidualists. If  there  was  any  one  thing  that  was  the  very 
ffis  Individ-  corncr-stonc  of  his  character,  his  thought,  and 
uahsm  j^-^  pQg|-jc  crccd,  it  was  faith  in  the  value  and  in 

the  poetic  significance  of  what  men  ordinarily  call  the  com- 
monplace. He  speaks  of  Robert  Burns,  ploughman  and 
poet  of  common  men,  as  one 

Whose  light  I  hailed  when  first  it  shone. 

And  showed  my  youth 
How  Verse  may  build  a  princely  throne 

On  humble  truth. 

Such  a  man  was  not  likely  to  miss  the  importance  of  com- 
mon men  any  more^an  the  importance  of  common  things. 
Treatment  of  Indeed,  this  tendency  to  find  poetic  values  every- 
CommonMen  -^^gj-e  -^^^  sometimcs  a  snare  to  Wordsworth. 
Lacking  the  sense  of  humor  that  would  have  enabled  him 
to  perceive  when  he  was  passing  the  bounds  of  the  ridicu- 
lous, he  wrote  such  poems  as  T/ie  Idiot  Boj  and  Peter  Bell. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  poems  like  The  LeecJi-GatJierer  and 
Michael,  he  has  attained  the  noblest  poetic  results  that 
were  ever  reached  by  such  simple  means.  The  latter  is  the 
severely  plain  story  of  an  old  shepherd  whose  heart  is 
broken  by  the  shame  of  an  only  and  well-beloved  son. 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  279 

When  the  boy  went  away  from  home,  the  father  had 
just  begun  to  build  a  sheepfold ;  and  though  the  old  man 
wrought  at  the  fold  for  seven  years  after  the  boy's  dis- 
grace, he  "  left  the  work  unfinished  when  he  died."  The 
profound  impression  of  Michael's  sorrow  is  conveyed  by 
the  suggestion  that  "  many  and  many  a  day  "  he  went  to 
his  labor, 

And  never  lifted  up  a  single  stone. 

How  bare  and  prosaic  are  the  mere  words  ;  and  yet,  charged 
with  its  weight  of  meaning,  it  is  one  of  the  most  grandly 
simple  lines  in  English  poetry.  In  such  treatment,  Words- 
worth is  dealing  with  the  natural  rather  than  with  the 
artificial  man,  showing  man  as  vitally  related  to  nature 
and  drawing  help  and  comfort  from  her.  He  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  much  dramatic  power  in  the  portrayal  of 
individual  character,  and  perhaps  is  disposed  rather  to 
deal  with  human  ideas  and  emotions  —  with  humanity 
rather  than  with  individual  man. 

This  suggests  still  another  avenue  of  approach  by  which 
his  love  for  nature  has  brought  him  to  a  large  human 
interest.      He    feels    that    these    two  —  nature  _ 

Harmony  of 

and  man — were  made  by  God  for  each  other  Nature  and 
and  should  be  in  harmony.     He  makes  us  feel 

How  exquisitely  the  individual  mind 

(And  the  progressive  powers  perhaps  no  less 

Of  the  whole  species)  to  the  e-xternal  world 

Is  fitted  :  —  and  how  exquisitely,  too  — 

Theme  this  but  little  heard  of  among  men  — 

The  external  world  is  fitted  to  the  mind  ; 

And  the  creation  (by  no  lower  name 

Can  it  be  called)  which  they  with  blended  might 

Accomplish. 

This  is  Wordsworth's  "  high  argument  "  ;  and  it  is  in  this 
spirit  that  he  becomes  the  jjoet  both  of  nature  and  of  man, 
in  their  spiritual  communion  with  each  other. 


28o  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

Wordsworth  said,  "Every  great  poet  is  a  teacher;  I 
wish  either  to  be  considered  as  a  teacher  or  as  nothing." 
Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  vaUdity  of  this  opinion, 
it  is  at  least  perfectly  unequivocal.  Wordsworth  was  — 
and  is  —  a  teacher.  He  was  not  only  a  man  endowed  with 
poetic  imagination,  poetic  passion,  and  poetic  feeling  for 
beauty;  he  was  also  a  great  thinker.  He  is  properly  to 
APhiiosoph-  be  called  a  philosophical  poet.  The  name  of 
icai  Teacher  philosopher  is  not  to  be  applied  to  him  in 
any  strict  sense  of  the  word ;  for  he  was  not  a  merely 
speculative  thinker,  nor  did  he  have  an  ordered  philo- 
sophical system.  Yet  he  is  philosophical  in  that  he 
deals,  after  the  poet's  fashion,  with  problems  of  the  uni- 
verse and  of  human  being.  The  subjects  of  his  think- 
ing have  already  been  largely  indicated.  His  doctrine  of 
a  universal  spirit  in  nature  has  been  called  pantheistic  ; 
but  although  Wordsworth  speaks  in  the  vaguest  terms 
of  "a  motion  and  a  spirit"  in  nature,  he  speaks  also 
of  the  soul  as  coming 

From  God,  who  is  our  home. 

This  line  is  from  his  Ode  on  Intimations  of  Im7nortality, 
one  of  the  greatest  poetic  masterpieces  of  the  century. 
Intimations  of  This  pocm  is  typical  of  his  philosophical  as 
immortauty  -^g]}  3.3  of  his  poetic  Spirit.  The  soul  comes 
into  the  world  attended  by  the  vision  of  the  glory  from 
which  it  sprang. 

At  length  the  man  perceives  it  die  away, 
And  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day. 

Yet  Nature  is  a  most  kindly  nurse,  and  "even  with  some- 
thing of  a  Mother's  mind,"  "  doth  all  she  can  " 

To  make  her  Foster-child,  her  Inmate  Man, 

Forget  the  glories  he  hath  known, 
And  that  imperial  palace  whence  he  came. 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)         28 1 

Still  there  are  within  us  instincts  and  affections, 

Which,  be  they  what  they  may. 
Are  yet  the  fountain  light  of  all  our  day, 
Are  yet  a  master  light  of  all  our  seeing ; 

Uphold  us,  cherish,  and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence. 

Such  philosophical  teaching  as  this  runs  through  all  of 
Wordsworth's  poetry,  so  wide  in  range,  so  varied  in  quality. 
It  is  the  teaching  of  a  great  poet,  with  superb  mastery 
over  the  resources  of  his  art — able  to  command  the  charm 
of  lyric  melody,  to  shape  the  sonnet  into  finished  perfec- 
tion, to  build  the  meditative  verse  where  "  high  and  passion- 
ate thoughts  "  are  "  to  their  own  music  chanted,"  to  construct 
great  temples  of  poetry  like  his  Prelude  and  his 

_  .  T      •        1  1   •  r  Ethical  Spirit 

hxcursioii.     It  IS  the  teachmg  01  a  great  master 

of  life,  charged  with  ethical  meaning.     His  poetry  touches 

the  highest;  it  does  not  despise  the  lowest.     In  it. 

The  primal  duties  shine  aloft,  like  stars ; 
The  charities  that  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless, 
Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  Man,  like  flowers. 

A  man  of  extraordinary  genius,  allied  with  Wordsworth 
by  close  personal  friendship  and  by  association  in  literary 
work,  was  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.    There  are 
some  points  of  similarity  between  the  two  men,  fo*r™oUridge 
but  in  other  respects  they  arc  strikingly  unlike 
in  character  and    in   genius.     The  intellectual  powers  of 
Coleridge  were  little  short   of   marvelous,  both    in    range 
and  in  quality.     He  was  a  man  of  broad  and  varied  learn- 
ing, so  much  so  that  it  is  doubtful  if  any  mind  in  his  age 
was  so  richly  stored   as    his.      He  was  a   ])rofoimd  j)hilo- 
sophical  thinker  —  acute,  subtle,  and  original.     His  critical 
powers  were  of  the  very  first  order  ;  and  in  this   ,..  ^    . 

'  -'  His  Genius 

respect  he  had  a  gift  which  Wordsworth  almost 

wholly  lacked.     In  [jurely  poetic  genius,  he  was  probably 


282  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

as  richly  endowed  as  any  man  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
His  command  of  the  resources  of  language,  both  in  poetry 
and  in  prose,  has  seldom  been  equalled.  It  is  generally 
agreed  that  he  was  one  of  the  greatest  conversers  that 
ever  lived.  Many  of  the  greatest  men  of  his  age — Words- 
worth among  the  rest  —  owed  much  to  his  stimulus  and 
inspiration  ;  and  from  him  went  out  streams  of  influence 
that  did  much  to  make  the  literature  of  his  generation  so 
rich  and  so  full.  These  are  some  of  his  titles  to  fame,  and 
these  are  suggestive  rather  than  exhaustive. 

Over  against  these  remarkable  powers  are  to  be  set 
limitations  many  and  unfortunate.  His  nature  and  the 
HisLimita-  Conditions  of  his  life  were  such  that  his  great 
tions  gifts  were  in  large  measure  locked  up  from  use 

and  never  came  to  adequate  expression.  Doubtless  the 
extent  to  which  he  exercised  personal  influence  upon  other 
men  took  away  in  no  small  degree  from  his  own  use  of  his 
own  powers.  Then.he  was  a  dreamer  rather  than  a  doer.  He 
planned  many  things,  and  in  his  fortunate  moments  could 
achieve  with  the  best;  but  most  of  his  plans  came  to  nothing, 
and  his  life  was  strewn  with  unfinished  projects.  His  meth- 
ods of  work  were  desultory,  and  only  in  his  happy  moods 
was  he  capable  of  his  best  self-expression.  He  was  constitu- 
tionally sluggish  even  to  laziness,  and  accomplished  his 
set  task  only  by  painful  effort.  He  spent  his  great  intel- 
lectual resources  and  potential  energies  in  talk  rather 
than  in  productive  literary  labor.  As  if  all  this  were  not 
enough,  he  was  a  confirmed  and  excessive  opium-eater. 
All  things  considered,  it  is  perhaps  a  wonder  that  he  accom- 
plished so  much  rather  than  that  he  accomplished  so  little. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  will  easily  be  seen  that 
Coleridge  was  a  unique,  original,  and  impressive  person- 
coieridge's  ^lity.  He  was  strikingly  individual  even  in  that 
Individualism  age  of  marked  individuaHties.  His  sympathies, 
his  theories,  and  his  literary  expression  were  also  marked 


THE    AGE   OK    WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  283 

by  the  prevailing  spirit  of  Individualism.  Like  Words- 
worth, he  was  enthusiastic  for  the  French  Revolution,  and 
spoke  noble  words  in  behalf  of  human  freedom.  In  one  of 
his  poems,  he  calls  on  waves,  forests,  clouds,  sun,  and  sky : 

Ye,  everything  that  is  and  will  be  free ! 
Be  witness  for  me,  wheresoe'er  ye  be, 
With  what  deep  worship  I  have  still  adored 
The  spirit  of  divinest  Liberty. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  spirit,  he  planned  with  Southey 
to  found  a  so-called  "  Pantisocracy  " — a  Utopian  com- 
munity in  which  all  should  rule  equally  —  on  the  banks 
of  the  Susquehanna  in  Pennsylvania.  They  actually  set 
about  the  carrying  forward  of  this  project,  but  were  forced 
to  abandon  it  for  lack  of  sufficient  money  to  cross  the  sea. 
It  was  a  poet's  dream,  but  it  illustrates  the  dreams  that 
men  found  possible  in  that  day.  In  no  way,  however,  did 
Coleridge  display  his  individualism  more  than  in  the  unique 
character  of    his  literary    work.     Like    Words- 

Individualis- 

worth,  he  struck  out  his  own  modes  of  expres-  tic  character 
sion  and  followed  the  singular  impulses  of  his 
own  peculiar  genius.  Those  modes  and  impulses  were  as 
different  from  those  of  Wordsworth  as  from  those  of  other 
men,  although  the  two  friends  were  in  intimate  literary  asso- 
ciation, Coleridge  was  as  preeminently  a  romantic  as 
Wordsworth  was  a  naturalistic  poet,  and  his  romanticism 
was  different  from  anything  that  English  literature  had 
yet  seen.  It  was,  as  we  shall  see,  the  romanticism  of  a 
dreamer  but  also  the  romanticism  of  a  philosopher.  As  a 
poet  of  nature,  he  was  second  only  to  Wordsworth  and 
with  a  manner  quite  his  own.  As  a  philosoj)hical  thinker, 
he  was  profoundly  interested  in  the  spiritual  philosophy 
of  the  great  German  writers,  and  nothing  gives  more  of 
continuous  jnirpose  to  his  life  than  his  endeavors  to  in- 
terpret that  philosophy  to  P.nglish  readers.  All  of  these 
literary  activities  were  in  harmony  with   the  ruling  spirit 


284  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

of  his  age ;  and  through  them  all  he  becomes  one  of 
the  leading  representatives  of  the  individualistic  move- 
ment. 

Instead  of  going  to  America,  Coleridge  settled  down  to 
a  happy  and  quiet  life  at  Nether  Stowey,  in  the  Quantock 
Coleridge's  HiUs  in  Somersetshire.  In  1797  Wordsworth 
Poetry  and  his  sister   Dorothy  established  themselves 

in  the  neighborhood  in  order  to  enjoy  Coleridge's  society. 
Under  the  influence  of  Wordsworth's  strong  and  vigorous 
personality,  Coleridge  was  inspired  to  active  and  fruitful 
literary  work.  In  a  single  "wonderful  year,"  he  wrote 
nearly  all  of  the  poems  upon  which  the  greatness  of  his  poetic 
fame  really  rests.  In  1798  the  two  friends  published  the 
famous  Lyrical  Ballads,  containing  Coleridge's  Rime  of  the 
The  Ancient  Ajicieut  Mariner  and  many  of  Wordsworth's 
Mariner  bcst-known  early  poems.      The  Ancietit  Mariner 

is  Coleridge's  masterpiece,  the  one  perfect  and  flawless 
Ywork  of  a  life  so  full  of  futile  projects.     It  is  in  form  and 
general  tone  an  imitation  of  the  old  ballads ;  but  the  essen- 
tial spirit  that  makes  the  very  heart  of  it  is  vastly  deeper 
than  that  of  any  mere  ballad  that  ever  was  written,  and 
the  poetic  genius  that  presided  over  its  creation  was  in- 
/comparably  greater  than  that  of  any  mere  singer  of  the 
(^people.     One  is  astounded  at  the  imagination  that  could 
take  elements  so  strange,  so  weird,  so  fantastic,  so  super- 
natural, and  could  make  them  like  "  Presences  plain  in  the 
place"  —  so  vivid,   so  concrete,   so    distinct,   so    credible. 
The  language  matches  its  great   matter.     It  is  doubtfulN 
whether  there  is  in  all  literature  another  work  so  remark-/ 
ably  illustiSiting  the  power  of  word  and  phrase  to  convey\ 
and  to  suggest  "the  forms  of  things  unknown"  which  the; 
poetic   "  imagination  bodies   forth."     Here,   if   anywhere, 
"the  poet's  pen"   has  indeed  given  "to  airy  nothing  a 
local-  habitation  and  a  name."     As  for  the  music  of   his 
verse, 


THE   Ac;E   of   WOKUSWORTH    (1S00-1S32)  285 

And  now  'twas  like  all  instruments, 
Now  like  a  lonely  tlute  ; 
And  now  it  is  an  angel's  song. 
That  makes  the  heavens  be  mute. 

Nominally,  the  poem  is  romantic  in  the  ordinary  accepta- 
tion of  the  term  ;  but  in  reality,  its  romantic  character  is 
"deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound"  and  at  bottom 
touches  essential  reahty.  The  fantastic  scenes  and  hap- 
penings of  the  poem  are  such  as  could  have  no  objective 
existence  in  the  actual  world;  but  Coleridge  —  profound 
psychologist  that  he  was  —  knew  well  that  they  could 
have  a  subjective  existence.  They  could  take  shape  in 
the  imagination  of  such  an  inspired  dreamer  as  himself. 
They  could  veritably  exist  in  the  disordered  brain  of  that 
"  grey-beard  loon,"  the  Ancient  Mariner.  It  is  he  who 
holds  the  Wedding-Guest  "  with  his  glittering  eye  "  and 
makes  him  "  listen  like  a  three  years'  child "  to  the 
tale  which  makes  him  "  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man." 
Every  reader  of  Coleridge's  great  poem  must  be  sadder 
to  feel  that  such  things  have  been,  and  wiser  to  under- 
stand that  they  still  can  be.  Other  poets  of  his  age""] 
taught  men  that  each  individual  soul  has  its  place  and  its 
part  in  the  world ;  he  taught  them  that  a  whole  world  I 
exists  by  itself  in  each  individual  soul.  J 

In  Cliristabcl — unhappily  only  an  exquisite  fragment  — 
he  has  given  us  still  further  insight  into  the  mysterious 
human  spirit.     It  seems  to  have  been  intended 

'  Christabel 

to  symbolize  the  conflict  between  good  and  evil 

in  human  nature.     Indescribably  weird  and  fascinating  is 

the  picture  of  the  demon  woman  who  throws  her  spell  over 

The  lovely  lady,  Christabel. 

As  she  unbinds  iicr  robe,  this  evil  being,  mingled  of  beauty 
and  horror,  is 

A  sight  to  dream  of,  not  to  till  ! 


286  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

This  same  contrast  between  good  and  evil  is  suggested  by 
the  picture  of  the  "  bright  green  snake  "  coiled  around  the 
wings  and  neck  of  the  dove.  One  of  the  most  famous 
passages  of  the  poem  is  that  in  which  Coleridge  describes 
the  broken  friendship  of  Sir  Leoline  and  Lord  Roland  : 

They  stood  aloof,  the  scars  remaining, 

Like  cliffs  which  had  been  rent  asunder ; 

A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between. 

But  neither  heat,  nor  frost,  nor  thunder, 

Shall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween, 

The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been. 

These  two  poems  illustrate  the  romantic  side  of  Cole- 
ridge's genius.  His  Dejection,  an  Ode,  may  serve  to  rep- 
Dejection,  resent  those  moods  of  depression  and  sadness 
an  Ode  which  arosc  from  his  afifiictions  and  which  did 

so  much  to  check  the  flow  of  his  genius. 

But  oh !  each  visitation 
Suspends  what  nature  gave  me  at  my  birth, 
My  shaping  spirit  of  Imagination. 

The  quality  of  his   genius  and   the  influences  which  re- 
pressed it  could  hardly  be  better  suggested.     The  poem 
will  also  serve  as  well  as  any  to  illustrate  Cole- 

Poetic  Xreflt" 

ment  of  ridgc's  gift  as  a  poet  of  nature.     Though  he  is 

Nature  writing  on  a  personal  and  emotional  theme,  we 

become  aware  that  he  has  an  alert  and  accurate  eye  for 
natural  form  and  color.  He  realizes,  however,  as  he  else- 
where says. 

That  outward  forms,  the  loftiest,  still  receive 
Their  finer  influence  from  the  world  within. 

And  he  adds  here, 

I  may  not  hope  from  outward  forms  to  win 

The  passion  and  the  life,  whose  fountains  are  within. 

Nature  is  spiritualized,  but  it  is  rather  his  own  soul  that  is 
poured  out  into  nature  : 


THE    AGE    OF   WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)         287 

All!  from  the  soul  itself  must  issue  forth, 
A  light,  a  glory,  a  fair,  luminous  cloud 
Enveloping  the  earth. 

It  follows  that  nature  for  him  is  often  touched  with  the 
weird,  romantic  quality  of  his  own  strange  imagination. 
There  is  on  the  one  side  an  imaginative  apprehension  of 
what  is  really  in  nature,  and,  on  the  other,  an  imaginative 
projection  upon  nature  of  what  exists  only  in  his  own 
mind.  In  this  particular  poem,  his  idealizing  faculty  is 
perhaps  best  illustrated  by  these  lines : 

And  those  thin  clouds  above,  in  flakes  and  bars, 
That  give  away  their  motion  to  the  stars. 

Finally,  we  may  note  that  Coleridge's  poetic  love  for  na- 
ture associates  itself  with  his  more  than  poetic  love  for 
freedom.  Not  in  the  forms  of  human  government  is  free- 
dom to  be  found,  not  even  in  the  individual  human  spirit. 
In  nature  alone  there  is  perfect  liberty,  because  there  is 
perfect  law. 

During  the  remainder  of  his  life,  Coleridge  wrote  much 
poetry  ;  but  little  of  it  was  equal  to  his  best,  and  his  most 
characteristic  activity  was  in  other  fields.  His  coieridge's 
creative  poetic  power  seemed  in  large  measure  to  ^^°^ 
fail,  while  his  philosophical  and  critical  powers  —  the  more 
purely  intellectual  side  of  his  nature  —  increased  in  corre- 
sponding measure.  There  was,  however,  still  the  same 
general  attitude  of  mind,  the  same  general  purpose  and 
method.  In  poetry,  he  had  endeavored  to  bring  the 
spiritual  and  the  remote  down  to  the  level  of  the  ordinary 
imagination  — whereas  Wordsworth,  on  the  contrary,  had 
.sought  to  e.xalt  the  commonplace  into  poetic  beauty.  In 
prose,  Coleridge  aimed  to  interpret  to  the  ordinary  mind 
the  meaning  of  a  spiritual  and  transcendental  philosophy 
or  the  significance  of  a  great  poet  like  Shakespeare  or 
Wordsworth.      On  the  side  of  piiil()soi)hy,  his  most  impor- 


288  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

tant  work  is  found  in  Aids  to  Reflectioii.  In  the  direction 
of  literary  criticism,  his  best  powers  are  displayed  in  Bio- 
graphia  Literaria,  where  he  explains  and  interprets  the 
poetical  theories  of  Wordsworth  with  a  critical  judgment 
and  insight  which  was  almost  entirely  lacking  in  Words- 
worth himself.  His  Lcctiit'es  and  Notes  on  SJiakespeare 
contains  some  of  the  most  suggestive  interpretation  of  the 
great  dramatist  that  has  ever  been  written.  These  and 
other  works  place  him  among  the  very  greatest  of  Eng- 
lish critics.  As  a  prose  stylist,  Coleridge  was  surpassed 
by  not  a  few  men  in  his  own  generation.  The  command 
of  the  resources  of  language  and  the  sense  of  verbal 
music  that  are  so  manifest  in  his  poetry  did  not  fail  him 
here ;  but  in  his  prose  work  he  is  much  more  intent  on 
matter  than  on  form  and  the  distinctively  intellectual  pur- 
pose of  his  prose  writings  had  its  natural  effect  upon  his 
style.  Probably  the  most  remarkable  examples  of  his 
prose  expression  are  to  be  found  in  the  singular  and  half- 
poetical  prose  commentary  that  runs  alongside  of  the 
stanzas  of  his  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Alariner.  Here  he  is 
quaint,  imaginative,  and  decidedly  original. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  was  of  nearly  equal  age  with  Words- 
worth and  Coleridge,  but  he  differs  very  decidedly  from 
Sir  Walter  ^^th  of  them,  no  less  in  his  character  and 
Scott  genius  than  in  the  circumstances  of  his  life  and 

the  quahty  of  his  literary  work.  His  preparation  for  the  lit- 
erary tasks  of  his  mature  years  would  seem  to  have  been  an 
almost  ideal  one.  Born  and  brought  up  in  a  land  filled  with 
historic  and  romantic  associations,  his  youth  was  nourished 
on  ballad,  legend,  and  historic  tale  that  fed  his  imagination 
and  kindled  his  enthusiasm.  His  delicate  boyhood  was 
largely  spent  on  his  grandfather's  farm  of  Sandy  Knowe, 
in  a  region  of  history  and  poetic  legend.  Edinburgh, 
where  he  was  born  and  educated,  he  calls  "mine  own 
romantic  town."      Many  years  of  his  youth  were  partly 


THE   AGE   OF  WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  289 

spent  in  traversing  the  country,  collecting  ballads  and  tales. 
Besides  all  this,  his  reading  made  him  widely  acquainted 
with  the  legendary  lore  of  Scotland,  England,  and  Ger- 
many, and  with  a  wide  range  of  British  and  continental 
history,  medieval  and  modern.  He  began  his  literary 
work  with  translations  and  imitations  from  the  German, 
and  in  1802  published  a  collection  of  native  ballads,  songs, 
and  tales  under  the  title  of  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border.  His  first  great  original  work  was  a  poem  Literary 
called  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  published  in  Career 
1805;  and  the  years  from  this  date  until  18 14  practically 
mark  the  limits  of  his  purely  poetical  career.  In  18 14  he 
published  JVaver/ey,  his  first  novel ;  and  from  this  time 
until  his  death  in  1832,  appeared  the  long  series  of  the 
"  Waverley  Novels."  Hardly  a  year  passed  without  one 
or  two  novels  being  put  forth,  and  his  income  during  a 
considerable  period  ranged  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand 
pounds  a  year.  Scott  bought  a  large  estate,  built  the 
magnificent  mansion  of  Abbotsford  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tweed,  received  in  1820  the  title  of  baronet,  and  cherished 
as  the  fond  dream  of  his  life  a  hope  of  founding  the  noble 
family  of  Scott  of  Abbotsford.  The  dream  was  cruelly 
shattered  in  1826  by  the  failure  of  the  publish- 
ing firm  of  Ballantyne,  in  which  he  had  secretly 
become  a  partner.  Refusing  bankruptcy,  Scott  assumed 
a  debt  of  some  p^i  17,000,  and  set  himself  to  the  tremen- 
dous task  of  paying  it  in  full  by  his  literary  labors.  That 
task  he  practically  achieved,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
debt  was  cleared  off  by  the  income  from  his  works  after 
his  death.  The  result  for  Scott  was  paralysis  and  soften- 
ing of  the  brain.  He  was  offered  a  man-of-war  in  which 
to  make  a  trip  to  Italy  ;  but  from  his  voyage,  he  returned 
to  die  at  Abbotsford  in  his  sixty-first  year.  His  life  was 
literally  made  a  sacrifice  tt^  his  commercial  honor,  and  he 
thereby    left    the    world    an    example   more   precious  than 


290  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

all  his  works.     So  long  as  the  name  of  Scott  is  spoken,  this 
thing  shall  be  "told  for  a  memorial  "  of  him. 

Scott's  poetry  is  chiefly  in  the  form  of  lyric  songs,  bal- 
lads,   and    more   especially,    long    verse-tales.      His    first 
notable  poem.  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  is  a 

Scott's  Poetry  t  1  i    •       1 

mediaeval  and  m  large  part  supernatural  story 
of  border  feud,  associated  with  the  family  of  Buccleuch, 
with  the  wizard  Michael  Scott,  with  actual  ancestors  of  Sir 
Walter,  and  with  such  places  as  Branksome  Tower  and 
Melrose  Abbey.  The  "  Lay  "  is  supposed  to  be  sung  be- 
fore the  Duchess  of  Buccleuch  and  her  ladies,  toward  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  by  an  old  minstrel.  What 
is  said  of  him  in  the  introduction  to  the  poem  might  well 
be  applied  to  Scott  himself : 

The  last  of  all  the  Bards  was  he, 
Who  sung  of  Border  chivalry. 

In  Marmion  there  is  decided  advance.  The  qualities 
which  had  made  the  Lay  so  extremely  popular  were  here 
exhibited  in  fuller  measure  and  on  a  larger  scale.  It  is 
called  "a  tale  of  Flodden  Field,"  and  the  great  battle  of 
Flodden  is  described  at  the  close  of  the  poem  with  a  vigor 
and  animation  that  convey  the  very  spirit  of  the  fight. 
The  events  that  lead  up  to  the  battle  are  full  of  stirring 
interest  and  are  interwoven  with  a  love  story  whose  happy 
outcome  is  in  fine  contrast  with  Marmion's  violent  death. 
Even  more  successful  was  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  which  is 
probably  Scott's  poetic  masterpiece.  We  are  here  carried 
to  the  edge  of  the  Highlands,  to  the  beautiful  Loch  Kat- 
"rine  and  the  wild  pass  of  the  Trossachs.  The  "  Lady  "  is 
Ellen  Douglas,  who  lives  with  her  father,  the  outlawed 
noble,  upon  an  island  in  the  lake.  Fitz-James,  the  unknown 
huntsman  who  has  lost  his  way  amid  the  mountains,  is 
entertained  by  the  Douglases  and  guided  on  his  way  by 
Roderick  Dhu,  the  famous  Highland    chief.      He  finally 


THE    AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (iSoo  1S32)  291 

proves  to  be  the  king  of   Scotland,  and  the  poem  closes 
with  reconciliation  between  him  and  the  Douglas. 

These  and  other  poems  of  Scott  were  among  the  most 
immediately  popular  poetic  works  ever  written.  To  them, 
more  than  to  the  early  poetry  of  Wordsworth  and  Cole- 
ridge, is  due  the  rapid  triumph  of  the  newer  poetic  ideals 
among  the  great  masses  of  the  people.  This  Quaii,yof 
poetry  is  essentially,  almost  exclusively,  roman-  Scott-s  Poetry 
tic ;  and  in  it  the  romantic  movement  which  had  been 
growing  during  a  large  part  of  the  eighteenth  century 
may  be  said  to  reach  its  culmination.  The  subjects  of 
Scott's  romantic  verse  are  found  in  the  Middle  Ages  and 
in  English  and  Scottish  history.  It  does  not  follow,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  a  mere  imitator.  He  goes  to  the  past  for 
his  material,  but  he  uses  that  material  in  a  way  peculiar  to 
himself,  shaping  it  by  his  imagination  and  filling  it  with 
his  own  romantic  spirit.  Ne.xt  to  the  romantic  quality  of 
his  poetry  is  to  be  noted  its  narrative  character.  Scott 
was  a  master  story-teller,  in  verse  as  well  as  in  prose.  He 
constructed  romantic  tales  thoroughly  fitted  for  poetic  ex- 
pression, and  told  them  with  a  vigor,  a  rapidity  of  move- 
ment, an  interest  of  incidents,  a  brilliancy  of  description,  a 
swing  and  resonance  of  verse,  that  showed  him  a  master 
in  his  art.  It  can  hardly  be  claimed  for  Scott  that  he  was 
the  equal  of  Wordsworth,  of  Coleridge,  or  of  others  of  his 
poetic  contemporaries,  in  the  higher  qualities  of  poetry. 
He  was,  however,  a  genuine  poet,  in  the  character  of  his 
imagination  and  in  his  command  of  the  music  of  language. 
The  extent  of  his  poetry  is  fairly  to  be  taken  into  the  ac- 
count, and  this  is  all  the  more  noteworthy  when  we  consider 
that  practically  all  of  his  poetic  work  was  confined  to  a 
single  decade.  He  had  as  much  poetic  genius  as  was  nec- 
essary to  make  a  great,  popular,  and  voluminous  narrative 
poet. 

Scott's  novels  are  as  truly  romantic  as  his  poems.     They 


292  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

are  romantic  in  their  subject-matter,  which  is  largely  his- 
torical, though  partly  legendary.  They  are 
romantic  in  their  method  of  treatment ;  for  he 
allows  his  imagination  to  play  freely  with  his  material 
and  to  shape  it  as  he  wills.  They  are  romantic  even  in 
the  sense  that  they  lay  chief  stress  upon  the  narrative 
element  rather  than  upon  the  picture  of  life  and  character. 
Most  of  the  novels  are  historical,  and  Scott  is  the  real 
creator  of  a  type  which  later  writers  have  so  fully  devel- 
Historicai  opcd.  The  history  covered  is  Scottish,  Eng- 
Noveis  iigh^  a]-j(j  continental.     There  is  an  exceedingly 

wide  range  in  time  as  well  as  in  place.  Coimt  Robert  of 
Paris,  for  instance,  is  located  at  Constantinople  in  1090 ; 
St.  Ronmis  Well  is  practically  contemporary  with  the 
writing  of  the  story  and  is  laid  amid  scenes  with  which 
Scott  is  perfectly  familiar.  The  favorite  historical  field, 
however,  is  the  Middle  Ages.  IvanJioe  is  a  picture  of 
English  life  in  the  reign  of  Richard  I.  TJie  Talisrnan  is 
a  story  of  the  Crusades.  Qiieiitm  Durivard  is  connected 
with  French  history  in  the  days  of  Louis  XI  and  Charles 
the  Bold.  Not  a  few  of  his  best  stories,  however,  deal 
with  a  later  time.  A  notable  example  is  KenilwortJi, 
which  gives  a  brilliant  picture  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth. 
Scott  had  a  marvelous  power  to  reproduce  the  past  and 
to  show  his  readers  that  it  was  peopled  with  real  men 
and  women.  He  took  pains  to  know  the  period  of  which 
he  wrote,  and  sometimes  wearies  the  reader  with  obtru- 
sive notes  to  prove  his  historical  accuracy.  He  does  not, 
however,  give  the  absolute  fact  of  history.  This  is  only 
to  say  that  he  was  a  novelist  rather  than  a  historian. 
What  he  does  give,  is  the  spirit  of  history,  which  puts  life 
into  the  bare  facts. 

A  considerable  number  of  his  novels  deal  with  Scottish 
history  or  with  Scottish  social  life  in  a  period  not  very 
remote    from    his    own    day.      Here  he   was  on  his  own 


THE   ACE    OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  293 

ground,  and  in  this  field  he  produced  some  of  his  most  suc- 
cessful works.  They  are  less  romantic  in  conception  and 
come  closer  to  real  life.  Scottish  character  he  Scottish 
thoroughly  understood,  and  no  less  close  was  his  Novels 
acquaintance  with  Scottish  history  and  scenery.  All  this 
enabled  him  to  narrate  and  to  describe  with  vividness, 
with  full  conviction,  and  with  unfailing  truth.  His  por- 
trayal, too,  had  the  advantage  of  the  enthusiasm  which 
came  from  his  strong  Scotch  patriotism. 

Scott,  we  have  already  said  in  connection  with  his  po- 
etry, was  a  great  story-teller.  He  had  much  skill  in  the 
construction  of  plot  and  still  more  in  the  con-  piotand 
duct  of  narrative.  His  stories  show  rapidity  of  character 
movement,  interesting  details,  dramatic  situations,  effective 
clima.xes,  great  variety,  and  a  fair  degree  of  unity.  His 
narrative  is  wonderfully  helped  and  strengthened  by  his 
power  of  vivid  and  picturesque  description.  It  is  in  this 
connection  that  the  treatment  of  nature  chiefly  enters 
into  his  work.  He  had  no  conception  of  a  spiritual  life 
and  meaning  in  nature,  but  he  loved  her  outward  forms 
and  knew  how  to  portray  them  as  the  background  of  his 
human  pictures.  His  descriptive  gift  is  also  serviceable 
in  the  portrayal  of  character.  He  had  a  really  remarkable 
skill  in  character  delineation.  The  personages  of  his 
novels  are  varied  and  original,  they  have  both  vital- 
ity and  fidelity  to  nature.  Above  all,  they  are  thoroughly 
objective,  no  mere  reflections  of  the  author  himself.  On 
the  other  hand,  they  are  comparatively  superficial ;  for 
Scott  did  not  possess  insight  equal  to  his  power  of  por- 
trayal. In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  they  are  individual 
rather  than  tyjMcal,  and  that  they  are  not  a  little  affected 
by  his  romantic  tendencies.  His  greatest  success  was 
probably  achieved  in  the  treatment  of  historical  char- 
acters. He  has  given  us  true,  interesting,  and  valuable, 
though  not  profound,  pictures  of  human  life. 


294  INDIVIDUALISM    (i 780-1 832) 

At  the  basis  of  Scott's  genius  lay  a  broad,  active,  and 
comprehensive  mind.  He  was  eminently  sane  and  clear 
Scott's  rather  than  subtle  or  profound.     His  sincerity 

Genius  ^ud  carncstness  were  among  the  best  qualities 

of  the  man  and  among  the  most  noteworthy  traits  of 
the  writer.  He  had  a  wide  range  of  artistic  sympathy, 
and  a  remarkable  power  of  objective  portrayal.  His  abil- 
ity to  excite  and  to  represent  the  emotions  was  not  pro- 
found, but  it  was  intense  and  energetic.  His  geniality 
and  humor  helped  to  give  a  broadly  human  quaHty  to  his 
work.  In  certain  powers  of  imagination,  Scott  has  had 
few  superiors.  His  imagination  displayed  remarkable 
vividness  and  lucidity,  astonishing  breadth  and  variety, 
power  to  construct  large  and  complicated  pictures,  a  mar- 
velous wealth  of  materials.  The  fact  that  he  was  a  poet 
has  given  great  beauty  to  his  work  as  well  as  great  power. 
He  was  an  instinctive  lover  of  the  beautiful,  both  in  nature 
and  in  art,  but  had  a  special  fondness  for  beauty  associ- 
ated with  mystery  and  romance.  Few  men  have  been 
endowed  with  a  more  wonderful  fluency  and  fertility,  or 
with  such  a  tremendous  capacity  for  work.  Scott  was  a 
very  great  literary  genius ;  but  what  crowns  his  fame,  is 
that  he  was  also  a  great  character.  The  man  was  even 
broader  and  nobler  than  the  artist. 

The  relation  of  Scott  to  his  age  and  to  its  great  moving 
ideas  is  somewhat  peculiar.  He  was  in  no  sense  a  demo- 
crat, but  rather  an  aristocrat.  He  had  little  sympathy  with 
those  revolutionary  principles  which  so  strongly  moved 
Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  and  other  great  men  of  the 
time.  It  can  hardly  be  said  that  he  had  any  great  enthusi- 
asm for  individual  freedom.  His  temperament  was  natu- 
rally conservative.  His  sympathies  inclined  to  the  side  of 
order  and  of  law.  It  seems  at  first  sight  as  though  he  was 
entirely  untouched  by  the  influences  that  so  profoundly 
affected  other  men.     Yet  Scott  was  too  large  and  too  re- 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH  (^8oo-I832)  295 

ceptive  a  nature  to  be  wholly  apart  from  his  age,  too  sane 
and  too  sympathetic  to  set  himself  wholly  in  an  attitude 
of  antagonism.  Consciously  or  unconsciously,  he  was  a 
part  of  the  general  life  of  the  time  and  moved  scott's 
with  its  main  currents.  The  age  was  individu-  individuaUsm 
alistic  ;  and  —  in  spite  of  some  limitations — so  was  Scott 
individualistic.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  himself  an  origi- 
nal, forceful,  and  aggressive  personality,  making  his  way  by 
sheer  power  of  genius  and  character  to  one  of  the  fore- 
most positions  in  his  time  —  to  one  of  the  foremost  posi- 
tions in  all  time.  Again,  conservative  though  he  was,  he 
was  by  no  means  a  classicist  or  a  reactionary  in  literature. 
He  exercised  the  right  to  work  out  his  own  native  genius 
in  his  own  original  way,  and  became  a  leader  in  the  new 
romantic  movement  and  in  the  creation  of  a  new  type  of 
fiction.  Romanticism  itself,  as  we  have  seen  again  and 
again,  was  in  this  age  one  of  the  manifestations  of  Individ- 
ualism ;  and  Scott  helped  on  the  individualistic  movement 
by  helping  on  that  romantic  movement  which  meant  at 
bottom  freedom  of  individual  genius.  Still  further,  Scott's 
was  a  tender,  generous,  chivalrous  soul,  which  apart  from 
all  theory  felt  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  oppressed,  and 
recognized  the  essential  worth  of  common  men.  He  con- 
sorted on  equal  terms  with  peasant  and  lord,  denied  no 
man  his  rights,  and  acknowledged  his  fellowship  with  all 
human  kind.  His  poems  and  novels  prefer  the  knight,  the 
hero,  the  fair  and  noble  dame;  but  they  also  have  a  place 
for  even  the  serf,  the  beggar,  and  the  outcast ;  and  no- 
where in  literature  have  all  kinds  and  conditions  of  men 
received  more  sympathetic  treatment.  Such  a  man,  whether 
he  willed  it  or  not,  was  in  essential  harmony  with  the 
great  modern  princijjlc  of  Individualism. 

In  a  very  different  way,  the  influence  of  this  same  prin- 
ci|)le  was  illustrated  in  the  work  of  another  great  novelist 
of  the  time  —  Jane  Austen.      If    .Scoll   was  the  prince  of 


296  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

romanticists  in  his  generation,  Jane  Austen  might  not  in 
aptly  be  called  the  princess  of  realists.  Born  and  brought 
up  in  a  small  country  parish  in  the  South  of  Eng- 
land, she  had  very  little  knowledge  of  life  outside 
of  a  narrow  circle  ;  but  her  peculiar  genius  found  even  within 
that  limited  range  opportunity  for  some  of  the  best  work 
in  the  English  novel.  She  dealt  almost  exclusively  with 
characters  drawn  from  the  respectable  middle  class  of 
English  society,  and  portrayed  these  in  the  most  ordinary 
relations  of  Hfe. 

Her  first  impulse  seems  to  have  been  received  from  an 
inclination  to  satirize  in  a  mild  way  the  exaggerated  ro- 
mantic type  of  terror  fiction  represented  by  Mrs.  Rad- 
chffe  toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This 
appears  especially  in  her  first  novel,  NortJianger 
Abbey.  In  Sense  and  Sensibility,  the  very  title 
suggests  the  contrast  between  her  own  common-sense 
view  of  life  and  the  affected  sentimentalism  prevalent 
in  the  work  of  her  predecessors.  Her  next  novel.  Pride 
and  Prejudice,  is  usually  regarded  as  her  masterpiece  and 
is  thoroughly  typical  of  her  manner.  Its  characters  are 
people  of  the  most  ordinary  sort,  and  only  the  ordinary 
aspects  of  their  lives  are  portrayed.  There  is  not  a 
single  exciting  incident  from  beginning  to  end  of  the 
book.  The  characters,  however,  are  portrayed  with  a 
delicate  and  minute  realism  that  makes  them  actually  ahve 
to  the  imagination  ;  and  the  picture  of  life  is  so  true  and  so 
just  as  to  create  a  positive  illusion.  Nothing  of  the  kind 
has  ever  been  done  better  than  the  delineation  of  the 
various  members  of  the  Bennet  family  and  the  more  or 
less  important  personages  who  surround  them.  The  theme 
of  the  novel  is  the  conflict  between  the  "  prejudice  "  of 
Elizabeth  Bennet  and  the  "  pride  "  of  her  lover,  whose 
scorn  of  her  rather  commonplace  family  she  very 
properly  resents.      Her    other    novels,    Mansfield   Park, 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH   (1800-1832)  297 

Emvia,    and    Persuasion,    are    of    essentially    the    same 
type. 

Her  plots  arc  simple  and  grow  naturally  out  of  the 
characters  and  their  ordinary  relations ;  but  incidents  as 
well  as  characters  are  handled  with  perfect  sure- 
ness  of  touch  and  with  the  perfect  mastery  of 
assured  knowledge.  Nothing  is  more  admirable  than  this 
perfect  command  of  her  material  and  of  her  artistic  method. 
One  of  the  fine  points  of  her  art  is  her  skill  in  the  treatment 
of  conversation.  The  characters  are  made  to  reveal  them- 
selves through  their  own  words,  and  the  author  seems 
always  able  to  find  the  precise  expression  that  accurately 
fits  the  character  and  the  occasion.  She  is  possessed 
withal  of  a  neat  humor  and  of  a  satirical  touch  that  is 
half  malicious.  Her  style  is  an  almost  perfect  instrument 
for  her  purpose  —  simple,  clear,  quiet,  precise,  keen,  sug- 
gestive, mildly  ironical. 

Jane  Austen  was  no  theorist.  She  had  no  great  principle 
to  demonstrate.  She  had  simply  a  clearly  defined  bit  of 
human  life  to  portray.  If  she  connects  herself  with  the 
great  movement  of  the  age,  she  does  so  unconsciously 
and  indirectly  through  the  quality  of  the  work  which  was 
suggested  to  her  by  her  own  genius.  Yet  such  a  con- 
nection is  clear  and  unmistakable.  If  we  interpret  this  as 
mainly  a  romantic  age,  she  is  entirely  apart  from  Herindi- 
its  central  current.  If  we  regard  it  as  chiefly  the  viduaiism 
age  of  Individualism,  we  shall  see  that  the  art  which 
could  find  fit  material  for  great  literature  in  the  life  to 
be  observed  from  the  windows  of  a  country  parsonage 
was  no  mean  servant  and  ally  of  the  individualistic  spirit. 
And  here  is  the  significant  fact  —  that  the  mighty  impulse 
of  Individualism  which  could  inspire  a  Wordsworth  or  a 
Coleridge  to  scale  the  highest  heaven  of  imagination, 
or  a  Scott  to  traverse  the  far  fields  of  romance,  could  find 
quite  as  natural  an  expression    in  inspiring    this  humble 


298  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

woman  to  portray  with  her  delicate  pencil  the  homely 
features  of  common  life. 

In  the  case  of   George    Gordon,  Lord  Byron,  there  is 

no  need  to  seek  closely  or   far   for  his  relation  to  the  age 

or  his  manifestation  of  the  individualistic  spirit. 

Lord  Byron;  . 

hisindi-  He  carried  to  the  wildness  of  extreme  the 
vidua  sm  jnipulses  which  were  driving  the  age  on  its  for- 
ward way.  He  manifested  in  his  character,  in  his  life, 
in  his  poetry,  and  in  his  governing  ideas  and  passions, 
the  very  type  of  the  free  human  spirit  in  revolution  against 
the  whole  order  and  framework  of  society.  We  have 
suggested  that  Wordsworth  was  a  sublime  egotist  in  making 
his  own  spiritual  experience  the  subject  of  so  much  of 
his  poetry.  Byron  was  quite  as  great  an  egotist,  if  some- 
what less  sublime.  He  wrote  about  himself,  not  from  any 
profound  conviction  that  his  experience  was  typical  and 
that  he  had  through  himself  a  great  message  to  convey  to 
mankind,  but  because  his  passionate  heart  felt  an  impe- 
rious necessity  to  utter  itself  in  words  and  because  he 
wished  to  fling  his  own  personal  bitterness  and  scorn 
and  pride  and  defiance  in  the  face  of  the  world.  It  is 
this  in  part  that  has  Umited  the  extent  of  his  fame.  So 
far  as  he  was  simply  an  individual  man  calling  upon 
other  men  to  hsten  to  his  own  passing  griefs  or  chal- 
lenging the  tyrannous  conventions  of  a  society  which  also 
must  pass  and  change,  so  far  he  was  merely  "  of  an  age  " 
and  not  "  for  all  time  "  — so  far  he  retains  interest  chiefly 
for  the  people  of  other  nations  which  have  yet  to  accom- 
plish the  struggle  for  individual  freedom  which  in  Eng- 
land has  long  been  won.  This  helps  to  account  for  the 
fact  that  his  fame  is  probably  much  higher  to-day  on 
the  continent  than  in  his  own  land.  Only  so  far  as  his 
personality  was  broadly  human  and  typical,  as  his  poetic 
genius  was  rich  and  powerful,  as  his  ideas  were  indi- 
vidualistic in  a  sense  larger  than  that  of    mere  personal 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  299 

revolt  against  an  uncomfortable  system  —  only  so  far  will 
he  really  remain  in  the  first  rank  of  English  poets.  And 
this,  in  spite  of  many  limitations,  they  actually  were. 
Byron  is  the  representative  poet  of  a  revolutionary  age ; 
but  he  is  also  in  a  large  sense  the  poet  of  the  passionate, 
restless,  gladiatorial  soul  of  man. 

To  understand  Byron's  attitude,  we  must  understand 
something  of  his  life  and  character.  He  was  born  of  a 
noble  family  whose  haughty  pride  and  passion-  Byron's  Life 
ateness  of  temperament  came  down  to  him  by  and  character 
natural  inheritance.  His  father  was  wild,  dissipated, 
and  unprincipled.  His  mother  was  a  woman  of  quick 
and  ungoverned  passions  whose  relation  to  her  son  was 
like  that  of  a  lioness  to  her  cub  —  alternately  tender 
and  savage.  The  defiant  spirit  of  the  boy  was  early 
awakened,  never  to  sleep  again  until  it  slept  forever.  At 
ten,  he  became  a  lord,  and  the  fact  naturally  worked  to 
increase  his  arrogance,  his  self-esteem,  and  his  ambition. 
At  the  end  of  a  school  career  at  Harrow  and  of  a  university 
career  at  Cambridge,  he  was  a  brilliant,  fearless,  athletic, 
and  strikingly  handsome  youth,  with  an  unmatched  per- 
sonal charm  and  with  extraordinary  personal  force.  A 
club-foot  was  the  one  physical  defect  that  embittered  his 
proud  heart.  It  is  in  some  sense  symbolical  of  the  spiritual 
deficiency  that  marred  his  splendid  and  gifted  nature.  He 
l)ublished  his  youthful  poems  at  nineteen  under  the  title  of 
Hours  of  Idleness.  The  sarcastic  ridicule  with  which  they 
were  received  touched  Byron's  pride  to  the  quick;  and  two 
years  later,  he  took  a  signal  revenge  on  his  critics  in 
English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers.  It  is  in  allusion  to 
this  deserved  chastisement  that  Shelley  says  in  Adonais : 

The  Pythian  of  the  age  one  arrow  sped. 
And  smiled!  The  spoilers  tempt  no  second  l)Io\v, 
They  fawn  on  tlic  proud  feet  that  spurn  them  lying  low. 

The  incident  is  in  many  respects  tyjiicai  of   Byron's  char- 


300  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

acter  and  literary  career.  In  1809  he  set  out  for  two 
years  of  travel  in  Spain,  Italy,  Albania,  Turkey,  Greece, 
and  the  ^gean  Islands,  and  returned  with  the  first  two 
Literary  cantos  of  CJiUde  Hai'old' s  Pilgrimage,  a   poem 

Work  which   reflected    his   romantic   experiences.     It 

immediately  made  his  reputation.  He  said,  "  I  awoke 
one  morning  and  found  myself  famous."  For  some  three 
years  he  was  the  literary  lion  of  London,  winning  the 
public  from  Scott's  poetry  by  such  Oriental  romances  as 
TJie  Giaour,  The  Bride  of  Abydos,  The  Corsair,  Lara,  The 
Siege  of  Cori7ith,  and  Parisina.  In  181 5  Byron  separated 
from  his  wife  after  a  year  of  union.  The  circumstances 
have  never  been  fully  known ;  but  the  public  agreed 
in  laying  the  blame  upon  him,  and  he  was  practically 
forced  to  leave  England.  He  did  so  in  18 16,  never  to 
return  alive.  Taking  up  his  residence  in  Italy,  he  con- 
tinued there  his  literary  work.  To  this  period  belongs 
the  great  poetry  which  made  him  famous  throughout 
Europe.  The  close  of  his  life  is  finely  characteristic  of 
the  man  on  his  nobler  side.  Throwing  himself  with  gen- 
erous enthusiasm  into  the  war  for  the  liberation  of  Greece 
from  Turkish  oppression,  he  was  seized  with  a  fever,  and 
died  at  Missolonghi  in  1824,  in  his  thirty-seventh  year. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  feature  of  Byron's  poetry  is 
its  intense  subjectivity.  Frankly  and  freely,  he  makes 
Byron's  himsclf  the  subject  of  his  verse,  and  pours  out 

Subjectivity  i^^Q  \<^  ^jg  personal  passion  and  experience. 
Even  where  he  is  dealing  —  as  he  very  often  does  —  with 
some  imaginary  hero,  that  hero  is  seldom  anything  more 
than  a  reflection  of  the  poet  himself.  This  is  true  of  his 
earlier  Oriental  tales  and  of  the  first  two  cantos  of  Childe 
Harold.  It  is  perhaps  even  more  true  of  the  poems 
Childe  written    after  his  final  departure  from  England. 

Harold  Childe  Harold,  ior'm.s,X.2ince.,  is  continued  through 

two  cantos  more,  far   superior   to  their   predecessors  ;  and 


THE   ACE    OF  WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1S32)  301 

in  these  later  cantos,  the  thin  mask  is  dropped,  and 
Byron  and  Childe  Harold  are  practically  one  and  the 
same.  Byron  relates  poetically  the  story  of  his  journey- 
ings  to  the  field  of  Waterloo,  up  the  Rhine,  through 
Switzerland,  and  over  Italy.  He  gives  utterance  to  his 
thought  and  feeling  concerning  himself,  mankind,  and  the 
world  of  nature.  The  passionate  individualism  of  his 
poetic  purpose  is  thus  finely  expressed  : 

'Tis  to  create,  and  in  creating  live 
A  being  more  intense,  that  we  endow 
With  form  our  fancy,  gaining  as  we  give 
Tlie  life  we  image,  even  as  I  do  now. 

It  was  not  merely  to  enlarge  and  intensify  their  own 
personal  being  that  such  poets  as  Chaucer  and  Shake- 
speare created  ;  but  there  could  be  no  better  description 
of  the  moving  poetic  impulse  of  Byron.  He  dealt 
with  himself  in  order  to  give  expression  to  all  that 
was  seething  in  his  great  heart  and  brain.  He  dealt 
with  mankind  in  order  to  define  his  relation  to  other 
men  and  to  show  his  own  si)lendid  isolation.  He  dealt 
with  nature  in  order  to  find  his  energy  and  his  despair 
reflected  in  her  fiercer  and  darker  moods.  Addressing 
the  elements  of  the  subsiding  tempest,  he  cries : 

The  far  roll 
Of  your  departing  voices,  is  tiie  knull 
Of  wiiat  in  me  is  sleepless. 

His  fierce  desire  for  utterance  is  voiced  in  this  tre- 
mendous passage  : 

Could  I  embody  and  unbosom  now 
That  which  is  most  within  me,  —  could  I  wreak 
Mv  thoughts  upon  expression,  and  thus  throw 
Soul,  heart,  niiiid,  passions,  feelings,  strong  or  weak, 
All  that  I  would  have  sought,  and  all  1  seek. 
Bear,  know,  feel,  and  yet  breathe —  into  otie  word. 
And  that  one  word  were  Lightning.  I  ssould  speak; 


302  INDIVIDUALISM    (i 780-1832) 

But  as  it  is,  I  live  and  die  unheard. 
With  a  most  voiceless  thought,  sheathing  it  as  a  sword. 

Bold,  strong,  and  impressive  as  his  utterance  was,  no  powers 

of  human    language  —  nothing  but    the    elemental  forces 

of    nature  —  were  adequate  to  match  that  which  still  lay 

unexpressed  in  his  soul. 

Byron  tried  to  be  a  dramatist ;    but    he    had  no  power 

to    portray  real   human  Hfe    outside    of    himself.      Again 

his   heroes  are   mere   reflections  of   certain  as- 
Dramatic 

Work  pects  of   his  own  personality.     In  dramas  like 

Manfred  and  Cain,  he  embodies  his  own  spirit  of  defi- 
ance and  his  own  yearning  for  complete  self-realization. 
Nothing  could  be  more  completely  individualistic  —  could 
more  defiantly  challenge  the  rights  of  the  individual 
soul  as  over  against  human  society  or  any  other  power 
in  earth  or  heaven  or  hell.  The  guilty  Manfred,  from 
his  wild  fastness  in  the  Alps,  defies  humanity,  and  in 
the  hour  of  death,  cries  to  the  evil  spirits  who  come  to 
seize  him : 

Back,  ye  baffled  fiends ! 
The  hand  of  death  is  on  me  — but  not  yours! 

Even  death  can  not  tame  him ;  for  when  the  Abbot  calls 
upon  him  to  utter  "yet  one  prayer,"  his  only  answer 
is: 

Old  man! 'tis  not  so  difficult  to  die. 

The  guilty  Cain,  remorseful  for  the  first  murder,  yet  finds 
it  possible  to  challenge  the  wisdom  of  God  in  allowing 
evil  in  the  world  and  to  justify  his  own  spirit  of  hatred. 
Surely  the  assertion  of  individualism  could  go  no  further. 
It  is  set  above  social  order,  above  human  sympathy,  above 
submission  to  the  divine  will.  Here  is  the  assertion  of 
Liberty  and  Equality,  but  hardly  the  recognition  of  Fra- 
ternity. 

It  is  natural  that  so  subjective  a  writer  as  Byron  should 


THE    AGE    OF    WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  303 

have  been  a  lyric  poet.  In  the  lyric  is  the  true  field  for 
the  expression  of  personal  passion.  Byron  was  . 
a  genuine  lyrist,  although  the  gift  of  pure  song 
was  not  his  most  characteristic  gift.  He  was  capable  at 
times  of  a  sweetness  of  music  that  all  but  matches  the 
finest.  Some  of  his  Hebrew  Melodies  and  Stixiizas  for 
Music  are  really  exquisite,  although  not  quite  as  charac- 
teristic as  the  grander  roll  of  his  verse  in  Cliilde  Harold. 
What  Byron  was  most  capable  of  giving  to  the  lyric,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  much  sweetness  as  fire  and  energy.  In 
this,  few  poets  have  been  his  equals.  We  shall  also  ex- 
pect to  find  his  lyrics  charged  with  the  personal  quality 
that  so  strongly  marks  all  his  other  poetry.  Here  he 
reflected  his  transient  moods  and  momentary  emotions, 
though  not  seldom  there  is  gathered  up  into  a  single 
poem  much  of  the  larger  significance  of  his  life.  One  of 
the  best-known  poems  associated  with  his  life  experiences 
is  Fare  thee  well,  in  which  he  expresses  his  grief  at  parting 
from  his  wife  : 

Fare  thee  well !  and  if  for  ever, 

Still  for  ever,  fare  thee  well : 
Even  thougli  unforgiving,  never 

'Gainst  thee  shall  my  heart  rebel. 

More  intense,  more  passionate,  more  filled  with  the 
bitterness  and  the  weariness  of  his  disappointed  life,  is 
the  poem  written  on  his  thirty-sixth  birthday.  Profoundly, 
even  terribly,  pathetic  are  such  words  : 

My  days  are  in  the  yellow  leaf; 

The  flowers  and  fniifs  of  love  are  gone ; 
The  worm,  tiic  canker,  and  the  grief 

Are  mine  alone! 

I^yron's  death  knell  seems  t(j  sound  in  the  last  stanza: 

Scik  out  —  less  often  sought  than  found  — 
A  soldier's  grave,  for  thee  the  best ; 


304  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

Then  look  around,  and  choose  thy  ground, 
And  take  thy  rest. 

In  less  than  three  months  he  was  dead. 

It  has  sometimes  been  questioned  whether  Byron's 
characteristic  attitude  toward  life  was  entirely  sincere,  or 
Byron's  whether  it  was  a  mere  poetic  affectation.     The 

Sincerity  truth  probably  lies  somewhere  between  the  two 
extremes.  Something  there  was  doubtless  of  tragic  pose  ; 
but  in  the  main  it  was  real  expression  of  real  experience. 
The  melancholy  is  too  thoroughly  a  part  of  the  very  tex- 
ture of  his  poetry  and  that  poetry  itself  is  too  great  and 
vital  for  us  to  believe  that  he  was  merely  playing  a  part. 
Whatever  else  he  may  have  been,  the  man  was  not  a  hypo- 
crite. Indeed,  he  was  altogether  too  frank  in  his  self-dis- 
closure —  unlocked  his  heart  to  the  extent  of  desecrating 
its  inner  sanctities.  If  he  sometimes  adds  blackness  to 
the  gloom,  in  other  places  he  lets  us  see  the  lighter,  more 
frivolous,  more  cynical  side  of  his  nature. 

Of  all  his  poems,  the  one  that  represents  him  best  is 
Don  Juan.  It  is  an  extremely  voluminous  work,  in  sixteen 
cantos  ;  but  it  was  not  completed  and  was  prob- 
ably incapable  of  completion.  In  that  respect, 
it  was  like  Byron's  life,  so  full  and  yet  so  fragmentary. 
Much  of  Byron's  experience  is  poured  out  into  the  poem, 
as  in  Childe  Harold.  Don  Juan  is  another  embodiment  of 
the  poet,  on  his  most  cynical  and  least  moral  side.  Again 
we  have  a  poem  of  individualism  —  man  riding  over  all 
convention,  all  decency,  all  better  human  feeling,  to  satisfy 
his  own  desire.  It  is  as  if  Byron  would  show  men  that 
their  best  and  holiest  feelings  are  mere  dust  and  ashes. 
Into  this  mocking  satire  are  gathered  up  all  the  powers 
of  his  genius  —  his  passion,  his  intensity,  his  lyric  music, 
his  marvelous  faculty  of  poetic  description,  his  rhetorical 
eloquence,  his  vivid  imagination,  his  pathos,  his  wit,  his 
sarcasm,  his  irony,  his  cynicism,  his    scorn,    his    despair. 


THE    AGE    OF    WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1832)  305 

and  all  else  that  went  to  make  up  that  strange  but  tre- 
mendous personality. 

With  the  name  of  Byron  as  an  eager  and  enthusiastic 
son  of  revolution  is  associated  the  name  of  Percy  Bysshe 
Shelley.  The  underlying  causes  of  this  revolu-  pg^cy  Bysshe 
tionary  spirit  in  the  two  men  were,  however,  Sheiiey 
very  different.  Byron  was  a  revolutionist  by  temperament 
—  because  his  fierce  and  imperious  nature  could  brook  no 
control.  Shelley  was  a  revolutionist  because  he  was  an 
idealist  and  a  lover  of  humanity.  His  revolt  sprang  from 
generous  impulse  rather  than  from  well-reasoned  convic- 
tion, and  his  theories  were  as  impracticable  as  they  were 
extreme.  They  were  the  theories  of  a  poet  and  a  child  ; 
and  what  is  crude  and  excessive  in  them  must  be  forgiven 
as  mere  accidents  of  his  peculiar  genius.  Shelley  was,  in- 
deed, in  his  own  words,  a  spirit  "  tameless,  and  swift,  and 
proud  "  ;  but  he  had  the  irresponsible  wildness  of  his  own 
spirit  of  the  west  wind  rather  than  the  tigerhke  fierceness 
of  Byron's  nature.  None  the  less  was  Shelley  a  remark- 
able and  unique  personality,  a  great  individual  in  an  age 
of  Individualism.  A  supreme  idealist,  a  poet  of  poets,  a 
prince  of  romance,  a  lover  of  nature,  a  child  of  dreams,  an 
enthusiast  of  humanity,  to  him  was  applicable  in  no  com- 
mon measure  the  description  of  Tennyson : 

The  poet  in  a  golden  clime  was  born, 

With  golden  stars  above  ; 
Dower'd  with  the  hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn, 

The  love  of  love. 

They  understood  him  well  who  wrote  his  epitaph  in  the 
New  Protestant  Cemetery  at  Rome,  "  Cor  Coniium  "  — 
Heart  of  Hearts. 

The  life  of  Shelley  held  much  that  calls  for  the  world's 
charity ;  but  it  also  affords  a  rare  example  of  fidelity  to  an 
ideal.  Born  in  1792,  he  breathed  from  hi.s-  earliest  years 
the  atmosphere  of  a   revolutionary  linic.     When  he  went 


3o6  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

to  Eton,  his  proud  and  sensitive  spirit  showed  itself  in 
rebellion  against  the  boyish  tyrannies  and  the  rough 
sports  of  a  great  public  school.  At  nineteen 
he  was  expelled  from  Oxford  for  publishing  a 
pamphlet  on  TJie  Necessity  of  Atheism.  His  rash  mar- 
riage with  Harriet  Westbrook  grew  out  of  an  impulse  of 
generous  pity,  and  was  naturally  followed  by  disappoint- 
ment and  separation.  Association  with  William  Godwin, 
the  social  reformer  and  novelist,  brought  him  into  acquaint- 
ance with  the  latter's  daughter ;  and  he  soon  found  in 
Mary  Godwin  a  congenial  life  companion.  By  this  time, 
Shelley  had  succeeded  in  shocking  public  opinion  and  in 
setting  himself  at  odds  with  his  own  eminently  respectable 
family.  He  therefore  left  England  with  his  wife,  never 
to  return.  The  remaining  four  years  of  his  life  were 
spent  mostly  in  Italy.  Here  his  genius  rapidly  matured, 
and  here  most  of  his  greatest  poems  were  produced.  This 
life  —  so  fervid,  so  erratic,  so  unselfish,  so  exalted  —  was 
brought  to  a  sudden  and  tragic  close.  In  the  summer  of 
1822,  while  saiUng  from  Leghorn  to  Spezia  in  his  boat, 
the  Ariel,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  storm  and  drowned. 
His  body  was  burned  on  the  beach,  and  his  ashes  were 
buried  in  the  Protestant  Cemetery  at  Rome. 

If  idealism  is  the  explanation  of  Shelley's  revolutionary 
spirit  and  the  secret  of  his  life,  it  is  even  more  emphat- 
Sheiiey's  Ically  the  inspiration  of  his  poetic  genius.  No 
Genius  poet  Hvcd  SO  much  in  a  world  of  dreams.     None 

was  characterized  by  a  poetic  fancy  so  ethereal,  so  eva- 
nescent, so  elusive,  so  impalpable.  His  imaginings  are 
woven  of  air  and  fire.  They  change  and  vanish  and  re- 
shape themselves  like  a  cloud  ;  they  are  touched  by  sudden 
glories  as  of  the  sunset ;  they  are  as  delicate  as  the  "  girdle 
of  pearl "  about  the  moon.  Nothing  can  describe  them 
but  themselves.  There  is  in  Shelley  no  such  clear  and 
definite  presentation  of  common  fact  as  we  find  in  Words- 


THE    AGE    OF    WORDSWORTH    (1800-1S32)  307 

worth,  no  such  concrete  realization  of  poetic  dreams  as  \vc 
find  in  Coleridge,  no  such  effective  rhetorical  eloquence  as 
we  find  in  Byron.  His  is  the  pure  essence  of  poetry  and 
appeals  to  us  by  no  other  charm  than  that  of  poetic 
beauty,  except  it  be  the  charm  of  his  lovable  personality. 
The  haunting  melody  of  his  verse,  the  poetic  enchantment 
of  his  beautiful  imagery,  seem  like  some  magic  caught 
from  other  worlds,  and  yet  they  seem  as  natural  as  nature 
itself.  For  there  is  no  apparent  artifice  —  only  the  un- 
consciously beautiful  expression  of  a  beautiful  soul.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  all  his  wonderful  achievement,  Shelley  seems 
to  be  trying  to  express  the  inexpressible.  The  grossness 
of  flesh,  the  imperfection  of  language,  the  inadequacy  of 
any  earthly  music,  hinder  and  retard  the  utterance  of  the 

spirit.       ^  o^ 

(    Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-coloured  glass,  f 
)  Stains  the  white  radiance  of  eternity.         \ 

Shelley  was  preeminently  a  lyric  poet.  He  wrote  many 
poems  in  narrative  and  dramatic  form,  but  he  was  a  singer 
rather  than  a  story-teller  or  a  portrayer  of  life  His  Lyric 
and  character.  It  is  not  too  much  to  declare  Poetry 
that  he  was  the  greatest  pure  lyrist  in  English  literature. 
This  means  in  the  first  place  that  he  had  an  unsurpassed 
gift  of  poetic  music.  It  means  further  that  he  had  a  pas- 
sionate heart,  and  knew  how  to  pour  out  the  richness  of  a 
great  nature  in  passionate  speech.  It  means  still  further 
that  his  poetry  is  intensely  subjective  and  brings  us  into 
contact  with  a  rare  personality.  In  form,  his  poetry  is 
finished  and  exquisite,  and  yet  it  has  all  the  careless  ease 
of  a  singing  bird.  The  poet's  delight  in  his  music  some- 
times amounts  almost  to  ecstasy.  Almost  everywhere  in 
Shelley's    poetry  this    lyric    gift  is  illustrated  ; 

,^,,  ,,  c  ,.  ...  The  Cloud 

but  he  has  left  a  few  supreme  lyrics  which  may 

serve  as  examples    of  the  rest.      77/i*  CA'//^/ is  a  wonderful 

illustration    of    Shelley's    imaginative,   as  well   as   of    his 


308  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

musical,  power.  The  cloud  itself  sings  and  exults  in  its  own 
glorious,  ever  changing  Hfe.  It  brings  fruitfulness  to  the 
earth  ;  it  commands  the  powers  of  snow  and  tempest ;  it 
creates  the  beauties  of  sunrise  and  sunset  ;  it  companions 
with  moon  and  stars ;  it  has  the  rainbow  for  its  triumphal 
arch.     Immortal  and  indestructible,  it  rejoices  : 

I  change,  but  I  cannot  die. 

To  a  Skylark  is  one  of  Shelley's  finest  examples  of  natural 
but  inimitable  music.     Like  the  bird  itself,  the 

To  a  Skylark  ,  t,-      ur    11  u         4-" 

poet  pours  his     lull  heart 

In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art. 

Its  exultant  song  suggests  contrast  with  his  own  imperfect 
life,  and  he  cries  : 

Teach  me  half  the  gladness 

That  thy  brain  must  know  ; 
Such  harmonious  madness 
From  my  lips  would  flow 
The  world  should  listen  then  as  I  am  listening  now. 


/ 


■& 


Surely  the  world  has  listened  to  his  own  diviner  song, 
not  out  of  the  heart  of  gladness,  but  out  of  the  heart  of 
The  West  sorrow.  In  the  Ode  to  the  West  Wind  \.\\qxq.  X's, 
^'"«i  this  same  yearning  for  something  seemingly  be- 

yond his  grasp.  The  poem  is  an  amazing  piece  of  musical 
and  imaginative  description.  Shelley  enters  into  the  very 
spirit  of  the  invisible  wind,  and  longs  to  share  the  impulse 
of  its  strength.  Touched  by  the  anguish  of  Hfe,  he  utters 
the  prayer  that  seems  almost  like  a  prophecy : 

Drive  my  dead  thoughts  over  the  universe, 
Like  withered  leaves,  to  quicken  a  new  birth  ; 

And,  by  the  incantation  of  this  verse, 

Scatter,  as  from  an  unextinguished  hearth 

Ashes  and  sparks,  my  words  among  mankind  ! 
Re  through  my  lips  to  unawakened  earth 

The  trumpet  of  a  prophecy  ! 


THE  AGE   OF    WORDSWORTH    (1800-1S32)  309 

There  is  apparent  in  these  words,  not  only  a  personal 
pain,  but  also  the  longing  to  awaken  mankind  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  poet's  dreams  for  the  betterment  of 
the  world.  Stanzas  writtoi  In  Dejection  near  ^J*«'»°'» 
Naf>Ies  is  one  of  Shelley's  most  perfect  poems.  Nature  is 
described  in  all  her  loveliness,  and  the  poet  allows  no  sor- 
row of  his  to  cast  a  stain  upon  her  beauty.  In  her 
presence,  "  despair  itself    is  mild,"  and  he  sings  : 

I  could  lie  down  like  a  tired  child, 

*         *         *         *         and  hear  the  sea 
Breathe  o'er  my  dying  brain  its  last  monotony. 

Such  music  is  beyond  praise ;  it  calls  only  for  illustration. 
It  verily  seems  as  though  it  had  been  taught  to  him  by  the 

Mother  of  this  unfathomable  world 

whom  he  addresses  in  his  Alastor: 

I  wait  thy  breath,  Great  Parent ;  that  my  strain 
May  modulate  with  murmurs  of  the  air, 
And  motions  of  the  forests  and  the  sea. 
And  voice  of  living  beings,  and  woven  hymns 
Of  night  and  day,  and  the  deep  heart  of  man. 

Alastor,  or  the  Spirit  of  Solitude,  is  a  narrative  poem  in 
blank  verse,  describing  the  wanderings  of  the  poet  in 
search  of  ideal  beauty  in  the  person  of  a  lovely 
dream  maiden.  It  is  typical  of  Shelley's  own 
effort  to  capture  in  his  poetry  a  more  than  earthly  beauty. 
Alastor  travels  amid  sublime  and  beautiful  solitudes  of 
nature,  borne  up  in  all  dangers  and  distresses  by  the  in- 
spiration of  his  great  quest,  and  after  fruitless  and  despair- 
ing search,  lies  down  at  last  to  die  amid  the  loneliness  of 
nature.  All  the  gloom  and  sadness  of  Shelley's  soul 
were  poured  out  into  the  poem  ;  but  it  splendidly  illus- 
trates his  love  of  nature,  his  worship  of  ideal  beauty,  the 
power  of  his  creative  imagination,  and  his  suj^erb  conim.ind 


3IO  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

of  the  resources  of  expression.  His  powers  are  illustrated 
briefly  in  these  lines  from  the  description  of  Alastor's 
death  : 

His  last  sight 
Was  the  great  moon,  which  o'er  the  western  line 
Of  the  wide  world  her  mighty  horn  suspended, 
With  whose  dun  beams  inwoven  darkness  seemed 
To  mingle. 

In  Adojiais,  Shelley  laments  the  early  death  of  his  friend 
and  fellow-poet,  John  Keats.  The  poem  ranks  with 
Milton's  Lycidas  as  one  of  the  few  great  elegies 
of  the  language ;  and  considering  its  poetic 
quality,  the  nobility  of  its  sentiment,  its  genuine  personal 
grief,  the  interest  of  its  subject,  and  the  poetic  friendship 
which  it  enshrines,  there  is  no  poem  of  its  kind  which 
claims  a  higher  place  in  the  world's  regard.  Written  in 
the  Spenserian  stanza,  it  displays  Shelley's  mastery  over 
that  difficult  form  and  displays  still  further  that  magic  of 
music  and  inexhaustible  richness  of  imagination  which 
were  his  poetic  birthright.  He  calls  upon  all  things  to 
mourn  the  great  poet,  so  early  dead  —  Urania  the  "  mighty 
Mother,"  "  the  quick  Dreams  "  born  of  his  extinguished 
genius, 

Desires  and  Adorations ; 
Winged  Persuasions,  and  veiled  Destinies  ; 
Splendours,  and  Glooms,  and  glimmering  incarnations 
Of  Hopes  and  Fears,  and  twilight  Fantasies  ; 
And  Sorrow,  with  her  family  of  Sighs  ; 
And  Pleasure,  blind  with  tears. 

All  he  had  loved,  and  moulded  into  thought 

From  shape  and  hue  and  odour  and  sweet  sound, 
Lamented  Adonais. 

So  likewise  the  Morning,  "the  melancholy  Thunder," 
"  pale  Ocean,"  "  the  wild  Winds,"  "  lost  Echo,"  "  the  young 
Spring,"  Albion.  At  last,  as  though  exhausted  by  the 
splendid  effort  of  his  own  genius,  the  poet  cries  : 


THE   AGE  OF  WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  311 

The  breath  whose  niiglit  I  liave  invoked  in  song 

Descends  on  me ;  my  spirit's  bark  is  driven 
Far  from  the  shore,  far  from  the  trembhng  throng 

Whose  sails  were  never  to  the  tempest  given. 

The  massy  earth  and  sphert'd  skies  are  riven! 
I  am  borne  darkly,  fearfully,  afar! 

Whilst,  burning  through  the  inmost  veil  of  heaven, 
The  soul  of  Adonais,  like  a  star. 
Beacons  from  the  abode  where  the  Eternal  are. 

It  seems  almost  like  a  prophecy  ;  for  in  the  summer  of  the 
following  year,  Shelley's  boat  was  overturned  in  a  storm  on 
the  Mediterranean,  and  the  poet  was  drowned  at  the  age 
of  thirty. 

All  that  was  finest  and  noblest  in  Shelley's  genius  is 
gathered  up  into  his  great  lyrical  drama,  ProDictJicus  Cti- 
bound.      Shelley  had  attempted  dramatic  work  „ 

•'  ^       _  Prometheus 

of  a  more  ordinary  kind,  and,  singularly  enough,  unbound 
had  in  The  Cenci  come  as  near  as  any  of  his  great  poetical 
contemporaries  to  real  dramatic  success.  The  actual  world, 
however,  was  not  his  sphere  ;  and  his  powers  found  larger 
play  in  the  ideal  realm  of  Prometheus.  Here  his  lyric  gift 
is  at  its  very  finest —  nowhere  more  subtle,  more  ethereal, 
more  full  of  unearthly  music.  His  idealizing  power  is 
here  carried  to  the  extreme.  We  are  in  a  world  of  spirits, 
where  anything  is  possible  that  the  imagination  may  choose. 
And  Shelley's  imagination  has  chosen  to  symbolize  here 
his  revolutionary  ideals  and  his  dreams  for  the  happiness 
of  man.  The  Titan  Prometheus,  representative  of  human- 
ity, is  chained  for  ages  to  the  frozen  rocks  of  the  Caucasus 
by  the  tyrant  Zeus.  At  last,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  the 
deliverance  comes.  "  Demogorgon,  a  tremendous  gloom," 
arises  from  the  place  where  he  has  awaited  the  hour  of 
fate,  hurls  Zeus  from  his  throne,  and  sets  Prometheus  free. 
Then  all  nature  unites  with  man  in  the  joy  of  the  glorious 
deliverance.  It  is  an  impracticable  dream  ;  but  at  the  very 
heart  of  it   there    is  divine   truth    as  well   as   some  ot   the 


312  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

most  marvelous  lyric  music  ever  written.  When  Prome- 
theus forgives  Zeus  and  calls  back  his  curse,  then  only 
does  the  hour  of  final  deliverance  come.  When  the  op- 
pressed can  rise  to  the  height  of  forgiving  his  oppressor, 
then  he  has  conquered  indeed.  Forgiveness  is  the  secret 
and  crown  of  Victory.  Such  is  the  truth  that  Shelley 
teaches,  and  it  is  thus  he  expresses  his  sublime  ideal : 

To  suffer  woes  which  hope  thinks  infinite ; 
To  forgive  wrongs  darker  than  death  or  night ; 

To  defy  power  which  seems  omnipotent ; 
To  love  and  bear ;  to  hope  till  hope  creates 
From  its  own  wreck  the  thing  it  contemplates ; 

Neither  to  change,  nor  falter,  nor  repent ; 
This,  like  thy  glory.  Titan,  is  to  be 
Good,  great,  and  joyous,  beautiful  and  free ; 
This  is  alone  Life,  Joy,  Empire,  and  Victory! 

The  name  of  John  Keats  is  usually  associated  with  the 
names  of  Byron  and  Shelley.  Like  his  great  compeers, 
Keats  was  a  marvelous  child  of  genius,  and  like  them  he 
died  an  early  death  in  a  foreign  land.  He  was,  indeed, 
John  Keats  the  latest  bom  and  the  earliest  dead  of  the  three 
—  the  youngest  poet  that  ever  left  so  great  a 
name  among  the  immortals.  The  facts  of  his  life  are 
not  of  much  importance ;  for  his  literary  work  is  at  an 
opposite  extreme  from  that  of  Byron  and  has  compara- 
tively little  dependence  upon  external  events.  A  first 
book  of  Poems  was  published  in  18 17,  and  the  next 
year  saw  the  appearance  of  his  Endymion.  All  of  this 
was  comparatively  immature  work,  and  Keats  recognized 
that  fact  as  well  as  anybody.  The  next  three  years  showed 
a  wonderful  development  and  gave  evidence  of  the  poet 
that  might  have  been,  could  he  but  have  had  a  longer  lease 
of  life.  A  volume  published  in  1820  contained  the  master- 
work  of  his  life,  a  group  of  poems  among  the  most  perfect 
in  the  English  language.  Then  he  hastened  to  Italy  in  a 
vain  pursuit  of  health.     He  died  at   Rome  in  1821,  only 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH  (1800-1832)  313 

twenty-five  years  of  age.  He  was  buried  in  the  Old  Prot- 
estant Cemetery,  near  where  Shelley  was  so  soon  to  lie. 
His  epitaph — suggested  by  himself  —  reads,  "Here  lies 
one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water."  No  name  in  English 
literature  was  written  to  endure  longer. 

As  Scott  among  the  older  trio  of  poets  was  least  in 
harmony  with  the  great  tendencies  of  the  age,  so  among 
the  younger  group  Keats  stands  somewhat  aloof.  More 
than  any  other  poet  of  his  time,  he  is  independent  of  the 
great  life  currents,  though  even  he  cannot  help  Keats  and 
being  borne  along  on  the  wave.  Perhaps  his  ^^^^^ 
comparative  isolation  was  in  part  due  to  his  extreme  youth, 
to  the  fact  that  life  had  not  yet  deeply  touched  and  moved 
his  poetic  nature.  Shelley,  to  be  sure,  had  been  stirred  by 
revolutionary  ideas  long  before  he  was  twenty  ;  but  Shelley 
was  an  astonishingly  precocious  youth,  and  there  were,  be- 
sides, certain  circumstances  of  his  life  that  help  to  account 
for  his  early  interest  in  great  movements.  The  position  of 
Keats,  however,  was  even  more  due  to  his  peculiar  charac- 
ter and  genius.  He  had  no  taste  for  politics,  for  social 
questions,  for  philosophical  problems,  for  purely  ab- 
stract ideas.  He  was  born  to  be  simply  a  poet.  His 
only  great  passion  was  for  beauty.  That,  he  desired  to 
find  and  to  express,  and  he  was  quite  willing  to  leave  the 
tasks  of  the  world  and  the  problems  of  the  mind  to  others. 
It  is  on  the  side  of  his  purely  poetical  genius,  therefore, 
that  we  must  seek  any  possible  association  between  Keats 
and  the  life  of  his  age. 

We  have  already  seen  the  kind  of  literature  which  the 
individualistic  movement  was  likely  to  produce ;  and  if 
we  examine  the  poetry  of  Keats,  we  shall  find  it  in  har- 
mony with  that  movement  on  its  purely  poetical 

•'  .  His  Individ- 

side,   though,  of    course,   with   many  distinctive   uaiistic 

marks    of    his  own   personal   genius.     He  was     """ 

one    of   the   great    romantic   poets    of   his   linic,    seeking 


314  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

his  finest  inspiration,  not  so  much  in  the  mediaevalism 
of  Scott,  in  the  Orientalism  of  Byron,  in  the  poetic 
idealism  of  Shelley,  or  in  the  psychological  wonder-world 
of  Coleridge,  as  in  the  pure  and  perfect  beauty  of  an- 
cient Greece.  He  was  touched  by  something  of  the  same 
interests  as  the  other  poets,  but  in  the  main  his  way 
was  his  own.  He  was  likewise  one  of  the  great  nature 
poets  of  his  time.  It  was  not  his  business  to  find  spiritual 
meanings  in  nature  with  Wordsworth,  to  idealize  her  in 
the  magic  light  of  his  own  fancy  with  Shelley,  or  to  pour 
out  his  own  soul  into  her  with  Byron.  He  was  content  to 
look  at  her  by  her  own  light  and  to  reveal  to  unseeing 
eyes  her  marvelous  beauty.  It  used  to  be  supposed  that 
Keats  was  a  mere  weakling,  and  that  he  was  practically 
killed  by  ungenerous  criticism  of  his  work  —  that  his  soul, 
in  Byron's  phrase,  was  "  snuffed  out  by  an  article."  There 
is,  however,  much  reason  to  suppose  that  quite  the  con- 
trary is  the  case  —  that  he  had  some  decidedly  pugnacious 
elements  in  his  nature,  that  he  accepted  even  cruel  criticism 
like  a  man  and  made  his  immortal  profit  of  it,  that  he 
had  within  him  strong  intellectual  and  moral  qualities 
which  might  eventually  have  placed  him  in  the  very  front 
rank  of  English  poets.  What  seems  fairly  certain  is  that 
he  had  that  superb  assurance  of  genius  which  makes  it  go 
its  own  way  regardless  of  criticism  or  current  fashion  or 
great  example.  In  the  form  and  method  of  his  work,  he 
was  decidedly  original.  In  the  spirit  of  it,  he  was  in  uncon- 
scious harmony  with  the  other  great  poets  of  his  age. 
It  seems  probable  that  in  the  last  analysis  beauty  is  the 
supreme  object  of  all  poetry  —  simply  as  poetry.  What- 
The  Apostle  ^vcr  may  be  true  in  other  cases,  it  is  certainly 
of  Beauty  ^-j-^g  ^Y\2Lt  bcauty  is  the  essential  quality  in  the 
poetry  of  John  Keats.  It  could  hardly  be  otherwise. 
Keats  was  a  passionate  lover  of  the  beautiful,  in  nature, 
in  human  life,  in    the   ideal  world    of    imagination.     He 


THE   AGE  OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1S32)  315 

began  by  loving  sensuous  beauty,  and  on  the  side  of  the 

senses  he  was  marvelously  alive  and  receptive.       He  cried, 

O  for  a  life  of  sensations  rather  than  of  thoughts  I 

It  is  told  of  him  that  "  he  once  covered  his  tongue  and 
throat  as  far  as  he  could  reach  with  Cayenne  pepper,  in 
order  to  appreciate  the  delicious  coldness  of  claret  in  all 
its  glory."  He  spoke  of  "  bursting  the  grape  of  joy 
against  one's  palate  fine."  He  said,  "  I  feel  the  daisies 
growing  over  my  grave."  Vet  Keats  was  not,  as  some 
have  supposed,  merely  the  poet  of  the  senses.  He  loved 
sensuous  beauty,  but  he  was  going  on  also  to  love  the 
beauty  that  is  intellectual  and  spiritual  ;  and  it  is  this 
that  gives  us  the  fairest  promise  that  he  might  have 
been  among  the  very  highest,  as  he  is  among  the  most 
e.xquisite,  of  pure  poets.  His  Endymion  begins  with  the 
words  : 

A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever: 

Its  loveliness  increases  ;  it  will  never 

Pass  into  nothingness. 

Such,  he  tells  us,  are  all  the  lovely  forms  of  nature  ;  but  he 

adds  : 

And  such  too  is  the  grandeur  of  the  dooms 
We  have  imagined  for  the  mighty  dead  ; 
All  lovely  tales  that  we  have  heard  or  read : 
An  endless  fountain  of  immortal  drink. 
Pouring  unto  us  from  the  heaven's  brink. 

This  already,  in  one  of  his  earlier  and  most  sensuous 
poems,  is  something  more  than  merely  sensuous.  In 
Hyperion,    he    rises    to    a    larger    sweep    of    thought,  and 

declares : 

For  'tis  the  eternal  law 
That  tirst  in  beauty  should  be  first  in  might. 

In  the  Odi-  on  a  (incian  Urn,  he  has  this  word  of  [pro- 
found   poetic   insight : 


3l6  INDIVIDUALISM  (1780-1832) 

Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty, —  that  is  all 
Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know. 

To  such  a  poet,  beauty  was  surely  something  more  than 
merely  a  matter  of  the  senses.  He  had  the  right  to  de- 
clare, "  I  have  loved  the  principle  of  beauty  in  all  things.". 
It  is  this  love  of  beauty  as  a  great  principle  of  the  world 
that  gives  to  his  poetry  its  largest  significance. 

In  one  way  or  another,  all  of  Keats's  poetry  is  an  illus- 
tration of  this  principle.  The  poems  in  his  volume  of  1820 
Narrative  embody  it  in  fullest  and  richest  measure.  The 
Poems  ^^g^  q£  these.  Lamia,  is  the   story  of  the  beauti- 

ful enchantress  whom  the  philosopher  Apollonius  discovers 
in  her  original  nature  of  a  serpent  and  causes  to  vanish. 
The  protest  of  Keats  against  the  pure  reason  that  would 
banish  all  poetic  illusion  is  thus  finely  expressed  : 

Do  not  all  charms  fly 
At  the  mere  touch  of  cold  philosophy? 
There  was  an  awful  rainbow  once  in  heaven  : 
We  know  her  woof,  her  texture  ;  she  is  given 
In  the  dull  catalogue  of  common  things. 
Philosophy  will  clip  an  Angel's  wings, 
Conquer  all  mysteries  by  rule  and  line. 
Empty  the  haunted  air,  and  gnomed  mine  — 
Unweave  a  rainbow,  as  it  erewhile  made 
The  tender-person'd  Lamia  melt  into  a  shade. 

It  is  the  characteristic  attitude  of  poets  like  Keats  to- 
ward the  spirit  of  modern  science.  Isabella,  or  the  Pot 
of  Basil,  \?>  a  romantic  and  pathetic  love  story  from  Boc- 
caccio. The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes  is  his  most  perfect  piece  of 
r  narrative  and  description.  The  bitter  winter  night,  the 
iaged  Beadsman  saying  his  prayers  in  the  cold  chapel,  the 
palsy-stricken  old  serving-woman,  the  boisterous  revelry  in 
,  the  mediaeval  castle,  the  fierceness  of  "  the  whole  blood-thirsty 
race  "  into  whose  precincts  the  adventurous  lover  Porphyro 
has  come,  form  a  marvelously  effective  background  for 
the  beautiful  and  voluptuous  picture  of  youthful  love.    The 


THE    AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH    (1800-1S32)  317 

poem  is  rich  and  warm  and  vivid  ;  and  yet  it  is  a  perfectly 
modeled  masterpiece  of  the  most  consummate  art. 

Following  these  narrative  poems  in  the  1820  volume  are 
Keats's  wonderful  odes.     Three  of  these  must  serve  for 
.brief    comment.      The    Ode  to  a  Nii^Jitiua^-alc  is  , 

'^  "^  Lyric  Poems 

among  the  most  personal  of  the  poet's  works. 

The  sadness  and  weariness  of  his  own  heart  are  contrasted 

with  the  song  of  the  unseen  bird: 

Thou  wast  not  born  for  death,  immortal  Bird  ! 

No  hungry  generations  tread  thee  down  ; 
The  voice  I  liear  this  passing  night  was  heard 

In  ancient  days  by  emperor  and  clown  : 
Perhaps  the  self-same  song  that  found  a  path 

Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when,  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  aUen  corn  ; 
The  same  that  oft-times  hath 
Charmed  magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas,  in  faery  lands  forlorn. 

To  AutHinn  is  Keats's  finest  poem  of  nature.     It  is  full  of    '' 
all  the  rich  warmth  and  "  mellow  fruitfulness  "  of  the  har- 
vest season,  as  perfectly  unique  in  its  kind  as  any  of  his 
narrative  poems.     In  the  Ode  on  a  Gteeicm   Uni,  he  Ifas^" 
given  life  to  the  "  leaf-fringed  legend  "  that  "  haunts  about 
the  shape  "  of  this  relic  from  a  beautiful  past.     It  has  much 
of  the  richness  of  his  other  work,  but  it  has  also  caught    ' 
something  of   the   rare  and  chaste   perfection   which   the 
classic  subject  suggests. 

Perhaps  the  noblest  effort  of  tiie  poet's  genius  is  Hy- 
perion. The  poem  deals  with  the  Greek  myth  of  the  fall 
of   Saturn  and   the   Titans,  and   was   especiaih' 

Hyperion 

to  have  treated  of  the  triumph  of  the  new  sun- 
god  Apollo  over  his  jjredecessor,  Hyperion.  It  was,  how- 
ever, left  a  splendid  fragment.  Perhaps  Keats  fell  that  he 
was  as  yet  unequal  to  a  great  epic  task  ;  but  the  grandeur 
and  simplicity  of  what  he  did  achieve  certainly  shows  that 
his   powers   were   raj^idly    strengthening   and    broadening. 


3l8  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

Shelley  said,  in  his  Preface  to  Adonais,  "  I  consider  the 
fragment  of  Hyperion,  as  second  to  nothing  that  was  ever 
produced  by  a  writer  of  the  same  years."  The  remark 
might  be  applied  to  all  Keats's  poetry.  Feeling  the  powers 
that  were  still  undeveloped  within  him,  he  once  said,  "  I , 
think  I'shall  be  among  the  English  poets  after  my  death." 
Matthew  Arnold  adds,  "  He  is ;  he  is  with  Shakespeare." 
So  far  we  have  been  dealing  mainly  with  the  poets,  and 
have  touched  upon  the  prose  literature  of  the  time  only 
with  reference  to  the  prose  writings  of  Coleridge  and  the 
novels  of  Scott  and  Miss  Austen.  The  age  was  chiefly  a 
poetical  one  ;  but  it  had,  nevertheless,  some  notable  masters 
of  prose  style.  One  of  the  most  gifted,  as  well  as  one  of 
the  most  lovable,  of  these  was  Charles  Lamb, 
haries  amb  -pj^^  ^^^  -^  which  Lamb  lived  was  one  of  unique 

and  not  seldom  imposing  literary  personalities.  It  can 
hardly  be  said  that  Lamb  was  an  imposing  figure  ;  but  he 
certainly  was  sufficiently  unique.  Eccentricity  is  the  mark 
of  his  thought ;  quaintness  is  the  mark  of  his  style.  He 
is  one  of  the  most  delightful  humorists  in  the  literature ; 
but  the  effect  of  his  humor  is  qualified  by  a  tenderness 
which  deepens  into  pathos  and  by  a  sweetness  which  gives 
him  a  most  human  charm.  He  was  a  blue-coat  boy  with 
Coleridge  at  Christ's  Hospital  in  London,  and  the  later 
friendship  of  the  two  doubtless  meant  much  for  the 
development  of  Lamb's  literary  interests  and  powers. 
Shortly  after  leaving  school,  Lamb  was  appointed  to  a 
clerkship  in  the  East  India  House,  and  remained  in  that 
position  until  he  was  fifty,  when  he  was  retired  on  a  pen- 
sion. His  life  was  comparatively  uneventful,  except  for 
the  pathetic  fits  of  insanity  of  his  beloved  sister  Mary. 
Lamb's  devotion  to  her  was  lifelong,  and  he  never  mar- 
ried. 

Lamb's  literary  career  began  before  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  but  his  first  noteworthy  work  was  the 


THE    AGE    OF  WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1S32)  319 

Talcs  frcvi  Shakespeare,  written  in  conjunction  with  his 
sister.  It  was  a  child's  book,  and  Lamb's  simple  Lamb's 
and  unaffected  nature  was  admirably  adapted  to  ^"""^s 
a  task  which  in  other  hands  might  have  proved  an  unfortu- 
nate experiment.  This  venture  was  soon  followed  by  his 
Specimens  of  English  Draviatic  Poets.  He  ranged  the 
whole  field  of  Elizabethan  drama  outside  of  Shakespeare, 
and  presented  some  extracts  from  later  dramatists.  His 
selections  are  admirable,  and  his  critical  comments  are 
sympathetic,  subtle,  and  acute.  Lamb  was  an  enthusiast 
for  the  old  dramatists,  and  succeeded  in  communicating 
his  enthusiasm  to  others.  His  book  did  much  to  quicken 
interest  in  many  half-forgotten  writers  and  to  revive  their 
fame.  Such  work  as  this,  of  course,  allied  itself  with  the 
romantic  movement  and  helped  to  extend  its  influence. 
Lamb  was  also  much  interested  in  the  early  seventeenth- 
century  prose-writers,  such  as  Burton,  Fuller,  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  and  Jeremy  Taylor ;  and  their  style  had  much 
influence  upon  his  own.  This  influence,  however,  was 
thoroughly  assimilated,  and  Lamb's  style  is  quite  indi- 
vidual and  unique.  Nowhere  are  the  qualities  of  this  style 
better  displayed  than  in  the  so-called  Essays  of  Elia,  his 
most  original  and  distinguished  work.  In  these  Essays  of 
altogether  delightful  productions,  his  mind  and  ^^* 
heart  are  reflected  as  in  a  clear  mirror.  The  subjects,  ex- 
ceedingly varied,  show  the  scope  of  Lamb's  interests  out- 
side of  the  literary  field.  They  range  from  "  Mrs.  Battle's 
Opinions  on  Whist"  to  "The  Praise  of  Chimney-Svveepers," 
from  "  Witches  and  other  Night  Fears  "  to  "  A  Bachelor's 
Complaint  of  the  Behaviour  of  Married  People,"  from 
"  Poor  Relations  "  to  "  The  Tombs  in  the  Abbey,"  from 
"  Modern  Gallantry  "  to  "  Old  China."  In  "  Dream-Chil- 
dren :  a  Reverie,"  his  imagination  conjures  up  two  children 
that  might  have  been  his  ;  but  as  they  vanish,  they  seem 
to  say  :   "  Wc  are  not  f)f  Alice,  nor  of  thee,  nor  are  we  chii- 


•^ 


320  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

dren  at  all.  The  children  of  AHce  call  Bartrum  father. 
We  are  nothing ;  less  than  nothing,  and  dreams.  We  are 
only  what  might  have  been,  and  must  wait  upon  the  tedious 
shores  of  Lethe  millions  of  ages  before  we  have  existence, 
and  a  name."  Perhaps  the  finest  of  his  essays  is  the 
famous  "  Dissertation  upon  Roast  Pig."  It  is  filled  with 
all  Lamb's  quaintness  and  with  all  his  humor.  Through- 
out the  whole  series  of  essays,  his  manner  is  most  personal 
and  intimate ;  and  it  is  largely  because  he  comes  so  close 
to  the  heart  of  his  reader  that  Lamb  is  the  most  charm- 
ing and  attractive  of  all  English  essayists.  He  is  a  unique 
personality  uniquely  expressed. 

No  less  unique,  though  in  a  vastly  different  way,  was 
Thomas  De  Quincey.  "  In  general,"  he  declares,  "a  man 
has  reason  to  think  himself  well  off  in  the  great  lottery  of 
this  life  if  he  draws  the  prize  of  a  healthy  stomach  without 
Thomas  De  a  mind,  or  the  prize  of  a  fine  intellect  with  a 
Quincey  crazy  stomach ;  but  that  any  man  should  draw 

both  is  truly  astonishing,  and,  I  suppose,  happens  only 
once  in  a  century."  De  Quincey  himself  drew  the  fine 
intellect  and  the  crazy  stomach ;  and  this  combination  is 
in  large  measure  the  clue  to  an  understanding  of  his  life 
and  work.  His  intellect,  indeed,  was  almost  abnormally 
active  and  acute,  and  was,  moreover,  of  a  quality  so  subtle, 
so  refined,  so  unpractical,  so  purely  contemplative,  as  to 
seem  almost  quite  exceptional  in  the  history  of  the  English 
mind.  His  life  was  almost  entirely  a  life  of  mental  activ- 
ity ;  and  his  hold  upon  the  realities  of  the  actual  world  was 
as  slight  as  may  well  be  conceived.  He  was  in  a  certain 
sense  of  the  word  a  voluptuary,  but  he  was  a  voluptuary  of 
the  intellect  and  not  of  the  senses.  His  pleasures  were 
those  of  the  imagination  and  of  the  analytic  mind.  He  de- 
lighted in  marvelous  dreams  of  the  fancy,  and  he  delighted 
quite  as  much  in  the  speculative  processes  of  the  pure  rea- 
son.    Such  peculiarities  as  these  at  least  hint  at  a  character 


THE   AGE  OF   WORDSWORTH   (i 800-1832)  32 1 

most  singular  and  most  strange ;  and  we  may  safely  say 
that  his  age  did  not  produce  a  more  remarkable  or  a  more 
strikingly  individual  personality. 

De  Ouincey's  peculiarities  were  in  large  part  inborn,  but 
in  some  measure  the  result  of  his  life  experience.  Even 
on  such  a  specimen  of  pure  intellect  as  he,  the  realities  of 
the  world  must  needs  show  some  reaction.  As  DeQuincey's 
a  child,  he  was  remarkably  precocious,  and  some  ^'^* 
of  the  spiritual  experiences  that  he  records  of  his  earliest 
childhood  are  credible  only  of  such  a  nature  as  his.  In  his 
seventeenth  year,  he  ran  away  from  Manchester  Grammar- 
School,  made  a  pedestrian  tour  in  Wales  during  which  he 
suffered  considerable  exposure,  and  then  went  to  London. 
His  hardships  and  poverty  brought  him  to  the  verge  of 
starvation,  and  he  was  probably  saved  from  death  by  a 
poor  outcast  whom  he  knew  only  as  Anne.  During  this 
period,  he  contracted  the  opium  habit  which  pursued  him 
all  his  life.  His  London  experiences  constantly  recurred 
in  his  later  opium  dreams.  At  last  he  was  discovered  by 
his  family  and  soon  after  sent  to  Oxford.  He  received 
little  from  the  University,  and  yet  he  was  one  of  the  most 
learned  men  of  the  age.  Even  as  a  boy,  he  could  converse 
fluently  in  Greek,  and  later  he  had  a  remarkably  wide 
knowledge  of  English  literature.  Indeed,  his  works  are  a 
standing  evidence  of  the  wonderful  fulness  as  well  as  of 
the  wonderful  activity  and  power  of  his  mind.  After  leav- 
ing the  University,  he  took  up  his  residence  in  the  Lake 
District,  and  came  to  know  intimately  Wordsworth,  Cole- 
ridge, and  others  of  the  great  men  of  his  time.  He  lived 
in  the  Lake  District  for  some  twenty  years,  and  afterward 
near  Edinburgh,  where  he  died  in  1859.  The  period  of 
his  mature  life  was  comparatively  uneventful,  except  for 
intellectual  experiences  and  for  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
ojjium  habit. 

De  Quincey's  first  and  greatest  work  was  The  Confessions 


^2i  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

0/  an  EnglisJi  Opium-Eater.  In  it  he  tells  the  story  of  his 
De  Quincey's  early  life,  as  leading  up  to  the  formation  of  the 
Opium-Eater  Qpjm^  habit.  This  occupies  the  larger  part  of 
the  work,  the  rest  of  it  being  taken  up  by  "The  Pleasures 
of  Opium  "  and  "The  Pains  of  Opium."  De  Quincey  is  very 
discursive,  and,  in  fact,  gives  comparatively  little  description 
of  his  actual  dreams.  What  he  does  give  is  extremely  im- 
pressive. The  dreams  themselves  were  tremendous,  and  to 
convey  an  impression  of  them  calls  forth  all  the  powers  of 
his  magnificent  style.     To  suggest  their  vastness,  he  says  : 

Thousands  of  years  I  lived  and  was  buried  in  stone  coffins,  with  mum- 
mies and  sphinxes,  in  narrow  chambers  at  the  heart  of  eternal  pyramids. 
I  was  kissed,  with  cancerous  kisses,  by  crocodiles,  and  was  laid,  con- 
founded with  all  unutterable  abortions,  amongst  reeds  and  Nilotic  mud. 

The  cursed  crocodile  became  to  me  the  object  of  more  horror  than 
all  the  rest.  ...  So  often  did  this  hideous  reptile  haunt  my  dreams 
that  many  times  the  very  same  dream  was  broken  up  in  the  very  same 
way :  I  heard  gentle  voices  speaking  to  me  (I  hear  everything  when  I 
am  sleeping),  and  instantly  I  awoke;  it  was  broad  noon,  and  my  chil- 
dren were  standing,  hand  in  hand,  at  my  bedside,  come  to  show  me 
their  coloured  shoes,  or  new  frocks,  or  to  let  me  see  them  dressed  for 
going  out.  No  experience  was  so  awful  to  me,  and  at  the  same  time 
so  pathetic,  as  this  abrupt  translation  from  the  darkness  of  the  infinite 
to  the  gaudy  summer  air  of  highest  noon,  and  from  the  unutterable 
abortions  of  miscreated  gigantic  vermin  to  the  sight  of  infancy  and 
innocent  hiu/ia/i  natures. 

Nothing  could  be  more  effective  for  his  purpose  than  such 
a  contrast.    A  single  further  quotation  must  suffice : 

The  sound  was  reverberated  —  everlasting  farewells!  and  again,  and 
yet  again  reverberated  —  everlasting  farewells !  And  I  awoke  in  strug- 
gles, and  cried  aloud,  "  I  will  sleep  no  more." 

The    other  works    of    De    Quincey    fill    many  volumes 

and  cover  an  astonishingly  wide  range  of  subject-matter. 

Some  of  them    are  associated  with   his    opium 

Other  Auto-        .  „  ..,„.,.... 

biographical    dream s.     Suspiria  de  Frofiindis  is,  m  tact,  a  se- 

^^  ^  quel  to  the  Confessions,  and  consists  largely  of 

sketches  in  "  that  vein  of  dream-phantasy  "  which  charac- 


THE   AGE   OF   WORDSWORTH   (1S00-1S3J)  323 

terizes  the  earlier  work.  The  most  famous  of  these  is 
entitled  "  Levana  and  our  Ladies  of  Sorrow."  In  it  he 
images  forth  the  profound  grief  of  the  heart  through 
three  mighty  personifications  —  Our  Lady  of  Tears,  Our 
Lady  of  Sighs,  and  Our  Lady  of  Darkness.  The  English 
Mail-Coach  affords  an  admirable  illustration  of  the  way 
in  which  his  dream  world  associates  itself  with  reality. 
The  first  part,  entitled  "The  Glory  of  Motion,"  is  a  highly 
imaginative  description  of  real  experience.  "  The  Vision 
of  Sudden  Death "  is  an  intensely  vivid  account  of  an 
accident  in  which  the  mail-coach  had  run  down  a  small 
gig.  This  incident  was  taken  up  into  Dc  Ouincey's 
dreams,  and  became  the  basis  for  the  wonderful  "  Dream- 
Fugue  :  founded  on  the  preceding  Theme  of  Sudden 
Death."  Beyond  such  works  as  these,  he  wrote  much 
else  of  an  autobiographical  character,  covering  his  early 
life,  his  studies,  and  the  period  of  his  residence  in  the 
Lake  District.  Here  he  easily  passed  over  into  literary 
reminiscence  and  criticism,  dealing  with  Wordsworth, 
Coleridge,  Southey,  and  others.  He  was  a  defender  of 
the  so-called  Lake  School  of  poetry  represented  by  these 
men  and  one  of  its  most  sympathetic  and  suggestive 
critics.  In  this  way  among  others,  he  was  allied  with 
the  new  literary  movements. 

It  would  be  very  far  from  the  truth  to  suppose  that  De 
Quincey's  writings  were  confined  to  himself  or  to  his  own 
personal  circle.  Indeed,  no  man's  mind  took  a  General 
wider  range.  In  the  field  of  literary  criticism,  ^°^'^^ 
he  deals  with  broad  cjuestions  of  literary  theory  —  with 
language,  with  rhetoric,  with  style.  He  discusses  Greek 
poets,  prose-writers,  orators,  and  dramatists.  He  treats 
great  German  poets  and  philosophers.  He  ranges  the 
wide  field  of  ICnglish  literature,  from  Shakespeare  to 
Wordsworth,  from  Milton  to  Pope  —  always  catholic  in 
his  sympathies,  always  subtle  in  his  insight.     History  and 


324  INDIVIDUALISM    (1780-1832) 

historical  biography  also  attract  his  attention.  His  finest 
biographical  essay,  Joan  of  Arc,  is  a  wonderful  piece  of 
imaginative  writing.  His  most  ambitious  historical  work 
is  TJie  CcBsars,  but  this  is  surpassed  in  fascinating  interest 
by  many  of  his  briefer  historical  essays.  The  astonishing 
range  of  his  interests  and  the  equally  amazing  minuteness 
of  his  knowledge  are  suggested  by  such  titles  as  The  Cas- 
uistry of  Roman  Meals,  Homer  and  the  Homeridce,  Toilette 
of  the  Hebrew  Lady,  The  Essenes,  and  The  Flight  of  a 
Tartar  Tribe.  In  the  best  of  such  works,  the  vividness 
of  his  imagination  fully  matches  his  gifts  as  a  thinker  and 
a  scholar.  This  imaginative  quahty  is  still  further  dis- 
played in  his  tales,  romances,  and  fantasies.  His  roman- 
tic stories  do  not  rank  very  high,  except  from  the  point  of 
view  of  style ;  but  at  least  one  of  them.  The  Spanish  Mil- 
itary Niui,  is  a  most  charming  combination  of  fancy, 
humor,  and  pathos.  Nothing  of  De  Quincey's  is  more 
characteristic  than  the  extravaganza  On  Mnrder  consid- 
ered as  one  of  the  Fine  Arts.  Its  original  humor  is  a 
little  gruesome  to  some  people;  but  it  is  certainly  a  mas- 
terpiece of  fantastic  irony.  The  description  of  "  three 
memorable  cases  of  murder "  in  a  "  postscript "  matches 
in  its  vivid  horror  the  ghastly  humor  of  the  supposed 
"lecture."  It  is  to  be  noted  finally  that  De  Quincey  la- 
bored much  in  a  more  purely  intellectual  field,  pro,ducing 
essays  philosophical  and  theological  and  a  considerable 
volume  on  politics  and  political  economy.  These,  how- 
ever, are  rather  beyond  the  range  of  pure  literature. 

It  is  evident  that  this  man  of  subtle  intellect  and  mar- 
velously  exact  learning  was  also  in  some  sense  a  poet — ■ 
a  man  of  imagination,  living  in  a  world  of  his  own  crea- 
De  Quincey's  tion.  He  was  a  poet  by  virtue  of  his  grand 
Gemus  ^j^^j   bcautiful   conccptions ;    he   was    almost    a 

poet  by  virtue  of  his  matchless  style.  This  style  is 
unique  in  the  literature.     It  is  not  the  poetic  prose  of  the 


THE    AGE    OF    WORDSWORTH    (1S00-1S32)  325 

seventeenth  century,  although  that  perhaps  is  its  nearest 
kin.  It  is  at  the  opposite  extreme  from  the  clear,  polished, 
and  direct  style  of  the  eighteenth-century  writers.  It 
does  not  transgress  the  proper  limits  of  prose,  but  ap- 
proaches poetry  without  ever  attempting  to  ape  the 
methods  of  poetry.  It  stands,  so  to  say,  on  poetic 
heights  and  breathes  poetic  air;  but  it  has  climbed  to 
those  loftier  levels  instead  of  soared.  In  the  first  place, 
De  Ouincey  —  in  writings  where  this  peculiar  style  is 
fully  exercised — has  a  theme  full  of  imagination  and 
charged  with  emotion.  His  problem,  therefore,  was  to 
convey  in  prose  language  whiat  is  essentially  poetic  ma- 
terial. The  style  through  which  this  was  accompHshed 
is  a  marvelous  display  of  all  the  resources  of  the  rhetor- 
ician. It  is  not  only  great  rhetoric,  but  it  is  great  oratory 
as  well  ;  for  De  Quincey  knew  how  to  pour  forth  his 
heart  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  moving  eloquence.  It  is 
almost  poetically  imaginative  and  ornate,  and  is  impas- 
sioned at  times  almost  to  ecstasy.  The  discriminating 
critic  will  tell  us  of  De  Quincey's  literary  faults  —  his 
tedious  digressions,  his  teasing  eccentricities,  his  often 
strained  humor,  his  incongruous  mingling  of  solemn  and 
grotesque,  his  whimsical  extravagances,  his  lack  of  in- 
tellectual order  and  balance.  But  when  all  is  justly  said, 
we  must  still  recognize  a  rare  intellect,  a  magnificent  im- 
agination, and  an  ahnost  unmatched  splendor  of  style. 

The  literary  wealth  of  the  age  is  admirably  illustrated 
by  the  authors  already  discussed,  but  it  is  by  no  Lesser  Prose 
means  exhausted.     In  all  departments  of  liter-  «"'^P°«"'y 
ature  there  were  other  writers,  eminent  in  their  own  day 
and  by  no  means  forgotten  by  posterity.     A  few  of  the 
best  known   of  these   may   be   briefly   mentioned   by  way 
of  example.     In  the  field   of    literary  criticism,   wiiiiam 
one  of  the  most  brilliant   critical   essayists  and   ""^''" 
most    helpful  allies    of    the  romantic   movement  was  W'il- 


326  INDIVIDUALISM   (1780-1832) 

liam  Hazlitt,  best  known  by  his  lectures  on  Shakespeare, 
on  the  dramatic  Hterature  of  the  EHzabethan  Period,  on 
English  poets,  and  on  English  comic  writers.  The  name 
of  Robert  Southey  was  in  his  own  day  associated  on  equal 
terms  with  the  names  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  in  the 
Robert  hst  of   the  Lake  School  of    poets.     His  poetic 

Southey  g^^j.  |^^g  j^q^  declined,  but  no    man  represents 

better  than  he  the  romantic  and  individualistic  spirit  of 
his  age.  Perhaps  his  best  and  most  typical  poem  is  his 
romantic  Curse  of  KeJiama.  Although  he  was  poet-laure- 
ate for  thirty  years,  Southey  was  probably  better  as  a 
prose-writer  than  as  a  poet.  His  Life  of  Nelson  is  a 
classic.  Southey's  position  may  be  best  defined  as  that 
of  a  typical  man  of  letters.  Thomas  Campbell  began 
Thomas  with  a  pocm  of  the  classical  type  on  The  Pleas- 

Campbei  ^^^^^  ^  Hope,  but  soon  caught  the  newer  spirit 
of  poetry.  His  best  work  is  to  be  found  in  such  poems  as 
his  three  splendid  war-songs  —  HoJienlinden,  Ye  Mariners 
of  England,  and  the  Battle  of  the  Baltic.  Campbell  was  a 
Scotchman,  but  the  sentiment  of  his  patriotic  poetry  is 
rather  British  than  Scotch.  Thomas  Moore,  however, 
Thomas  was  not  ouly  a  typical  Irishman,  but  was  also 
^^^^  the    singer   of    Ireland's    woes    and    departed 

glories.  His  Irish  Melodies  do  not  reach  the  highest 
poetic  levels,  but  it  is  praise  enough  to  say  that  at  their 
best  they  are  almost  perfect  in  their  kind.  Moore  rep- 
resents the  spirit  of  the  age,  not  only  by  his  patriotic 
enthusiasm,  but  also  by  his  rather  florid  Oriental  ro- 
mances, of  which  the  best  is  Lalla  Rookh.  The  life 
Walter  sav-  ^f  Walter  Savagc  Landor  was  an  extremely 
age  Lander  Jong  One,  extending  from  1775  to  1864;  and 
his  literary  career  affords  some  interesting  illustrations 
of  literary  movements.  He  began  as  a  romantic  poet 
even  before  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  by 
later    works    illustrated    the    progress    of    the    romantic 


THE    AGE    OF  WORDSWORTH    (1800-1832)  327 

movement.  His  fine  classical  culture  brought,  however, 
a  more  finished  and  restrained  quality  into  much  of  his 
poetry  and  also  into  the  chaste  and  classic  prose  which 
marked  his  later  life.  His  work,  therefore,  taken  as 
a  whole,  unites  romantic  suggestiveness  with  classic  ele- 
gance. While  this  union  and  change  are  in  sonic  re- 
spects personal  to  Landor,  his  tendency  was  nevertheless 
in  harmony  with  the  tendency  of  the  age.  change  of 
When  Romanticism  had  spent  its  greatest  fer-  *^^^^ 
vor,  when  Individualism  had  passed  the  period  of  its 
greatest  intensity,  there  came  something  of  a  movement 
toward  that  restraint  and  recognition  of  literary  law 
which  Classicism  had  formerly  represented.  It  was  an 
old  spirit  recurring  under  the  stress  of  very  new  impulses; 
and  Landor,  living  far  on  into  the  later  age,  had  oppor- 
tunity to  feel  the  effect  of  influences  which  gave  a  classic 
finish  to  the  work  of  Arnold  and  Tennyson. 


Graves  ok  Kkais  am>  Sevkrn,  Dim  Fkutkstant  Ckmkikky 
kumk.    sutlley's  grave  is  near,  in  new  cemetery 


BOOK  VI 

DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE  {1832-1892) 

The  Individualism  which  characterized  the  Age  of  Burns 
and  the  Age  of  Wordsworth  was  not  Democracy.  It  was 
,    .  .     ,.      rather  the  spirit    of  which  democracy  is  born. 

Individualism  ^  _  -^ 

andDemoc-  Democracy  is  organized  government  —  "of  the 
""^^  people,    by   the    people,  and   for  the    people." 

It  is  individuahstic  theory  and  passion  crystallized  into 
actual  fact.  An  age  of  individualism  must  precede  an 
age  of  democracy,  and  sometimes  the  period  of  prepa- 
ration is  a  very  long  one.  The  history  of  the  development 
of  free  institutions  in  England  has  not,  of  course,  been  a 
history  of  sudden  revolution,  but  rather  a  history 

Where  Freedom  slowly  broadens  down 
From  precedent  to  precedent. 

It  is  therefore  difficult  to  specify  the  exact  points  where 
movements  for  freedom  have  begun  or  have  culminated. 
Nevertheless,  we  have  been  able  to  see  in  literature  the 
development  of  the  individualistic  spirit  progressing  for 
something  like  a  hundred  years,  gradually  gathering  force 
and  gradually  coming  to  ever  clearer  and  stronger  literary 
expression.  At  about  the  close  of  the  first  third  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  moreover,  it  may  be  fairly  said  that 
democracy  in  England  has  begun.  It  began  earlier  in 
America  ;  but  there  it  had  freer  way,  and  did  not  have 
to  make  that  long  and  severe  struggle  against  established 
order  and  prescriptive  right  which  we  have  seen  to  be  the 
special  characteristic  of  the  ages  of  Burns  and  Words- 
worth.    It  was  not  until  the  battle  for  individualism  had 

328 


/i 


47" 


DEMOCRACY    AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892)  329 

been  fought  and  won  on  many  fields  that  victory  for  de- 
mocracy was  possible.  If  there  is  any  one  event  that 
marks  the  actual  beginning  of  democratic  conditions  in 
England,  it  is  the  great  Reform  Bill  of  1832.  From  that 
as  a  point  of  departure,  the  movement  went  gradually  for- 
ward throughout  the  rest  of  the  century,  until  England 
became  in  literal  fact  a  "  crowned  republic." 

Not  only  must  the  spirit  of  individualism  precede  the 
growth  of  democracy  ;  it  must  also  accompany  and  inform 
that  growth.  It  is  the  very  breath  of  life  in  the  individualism 
nostrils  of  the  democratic  organism.  Yet  this  '"  Democracy 
union  of  spirit  and  fact  brings  new  conditions.  In- 
dividualism is  no  longer  a  disembodied  spirit,  free  to 
wander  at  its  own  sweet  will,  to  turn  and  overturn  at  its 
own  pleasure.  It  has  accepted  responsibilities  and  has  put 
itself  under  bonds.  It  is  now  the  master  and  ^uide  of 
social  conditions,  and  no  longer  the  mere  iconoclast.  It 
can  not  indulge  in  revolution,  for  it  must  preserve  and 
develop  the  new  order  which  it  has  created.  In  a  word, 
its  work  is  no  longer  destructive  but  constructive.  All  this 
makes  a  vast  difference.  Men  still  believe  in  the  worth  of 
the  common  maru  They  still  maintain  the  rights  of  the 
individual.  They  still  proclaim  the  blessings  of  liberty. 
But  now  the  ideal  is  liberty  within  the  bounds  of  law.  The 
individual  is  part  of  a  great  organization,  and  has  his 
duties  as  well  as  his  rights.  The  common  man  must  make 
himself  uncommon,  if  he  is  really  to  prove  his  worth 
where  opportunity  is  open  to  all. 

Some  such  suggestions  as  these  will  serve  to  indicate 
roughly  the  new  conditions  that  are  created  for  literature 
bv  the  passing  of  the  democratic  ideal  into  the  ^ 

y  I  o  Democracy 

democratic  reality.     Literary  genius  must   now  and  Litera- 

....  ture 

seek  to  represent  the  appearances  and  conditions 

of  life  under  a  democratic  social  order.     It  must  reflect  the 

thoughts,  the  feelings,  and  the  aspirations  of  average  men 


330  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE  (1832-1892) 

and  women.  It  must  recognize  a  duty  to  uphold  such 
ideals  as  will  make  the  individual  a  better  citizen  and  mem- 
ber of  society.  It  must  feel  the  influence  of  popular  taste 
and  judgment,  and  yield  in  greater  or  less  measure  to  the 
sway  of  the  popular  will.  Even  poetry  must  become  to 
some  extent  "  popular,"  and  must  recognize  the  right  of 
the  people  to  find  poetic  expression  for  the  spiritual  and 
the  ideal  that  is  within  common  breasts.  Literature  is 
likely  to  return  from  the  study  of  nature  to  the  study  of 
man,  Romance  will  still  exist,  for  the  common  people  are 
always  romantic ;  but  it  will  tend  to  be  such  romance  as 
common  people  can  understand.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
will  be  encouragement  to  realism,  for  men  will  desire  to 
see  the  portrayal  and  to  be  told  the  meaning  of  ordinary 
life.  To  some  sensitive  souls,  this  democratization  of  litera- 
ture will  seem  a  lamentable  and  a  vulgar  thing;  but  democ- 
racy will  be  likely  to  have  faith  in  itself  and  in  the  way 
along  which  it  is  impelled  by  its  own  genius.  Nor  will  those 
who  know  the  history  of  English  literature  find  that  faith 
unjustified  by  the  past.  They  will  recall  that  there  have 
been  fears  before  lest  literary  genius  should  be  degraded 
by  stooping  to  common  themes  —  lest  King  Cophetua 
should  lower  his  dignity  by  stepping  down  to  wed  the 
beggar  maid.  Then  they  will  remember —  and  the  remem- 
brance will  be  sufficient  —  that  Robert  Burns  taught 
William  Wordsworth 

How  Verse  may  build  a  princely  throne 
On  humble  truth. 

It  is  not  too  much  even  to  believe  that  the  Hterature  of 
democracy  may  eventually  become  the  greatest  of  all  liter- 
ature, because  more  than  any  other  it  is  the  literature  of 
humanity. 

The  conditions  of  democracy,  whose  natural  influence 
upon    literature   we  have   thus    tried   briefly    to  indicate, 


DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892)  331 

prevailed  throughout  the  period  whose  literary  history  we 
are  now  to  consider.      If  those  conditions  did 

Democratic 

not  produce   in   the  fullest   measure  the  effects  influences  on 

1.1  1  1  .    •       ,  Literature 

suggested,  the  reasons  arc  to  be  sought  ni  two 
directions.  In  the  first  place,  the  conditions  themselves 
were  not  complete.  England  was  becoming  a  democracy  ; 
but  the  growth  was  slow,  and  its  perfect  results  were  in 
some  degree  hindered  by  the  coexistence  of  aristocratic 
and  monarchical  institutions.  Democracy  in  America  was 
more  thoroughgoing,  and  its  effects  on  literature  have  been 
consequently  more  typical.  In  the  second  place,  the  in- 
fluence of  democracy  has  been  to  a  large  extent  modified 
by  the  simultaneous  action  of  another  great  and  powerful 
force  —  that  of  modern  science.  Nevertheless,  in  spite 
of  all  necessary  limitations,  the  literary  influence  of  demo- 
cratic ideas  and  of  democratic  conditions  of  life  may  be  dis- 
cerned with  sufficient  clearness  and  fulness  to  justify  the 
recognition  of  democracy  as  one  of  the  great  guiding  im- 
pulses of  the  literature  of  the  age.  The  wonderful  growth 
of  the  novel  in  its  manifold  forms  offers  large  illustration  of 
the  presentation  of  life  and  character  as  they  exist  in  a  demo- 
cratic state  of  society.  Miscellaneous  prose  has  dealt  largely 
with  the  themes  and  problems  suggested  by  a  democratic 
age,  and  not  the  less  so  when  the  writers  have  been  hostile 
or  critical  in  their  attitude  toward  democratic  theories  and 
aspirations.  Even  in  the  case  of  poetry,  the  ideals  of  the 
average  man  and  the  sentiments  of  a  democratic  society 
have  had  their  influence  and  have  found  their  expression. 

Another  controlling  influence  in  t'hc  age,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  has  been  that  of  Science.  The  growth 
of  natural  science  has  been    one    of  the    great 

"  Growth  of 

facts  of  the  nineteenth  century.     It  has  exerted  Natural 
a  profound  influence  upon  human  thought  in  all 
its  departments  —  religious,  philosophical,  j)()litical,  social, 
historical,  educational,  literary,  as  well  as  purely  scientific. 


332  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

It  has  had  a  far-reaching  and  almost  incalculable  effect 
likewise  upon  the  conditions  of  practical  life.  Within  two 
generations,  the  world  has  been  almost  revolutionized  in 
the  matters  of  commerce,  trade,  travel,  intercommunica- 
tion, and  every-day  living.  The  facts  in  the  case  are  too 
clear  and  too  familiar  to  be  in  need  of  specific  illustration. 
Under  such  conditions,  it  could  hardly  be  otherwise  than 
that  science  should  have  had  a  profound  influence  upon 
literature. 

This  influence  has  been  partly  direct  and  partly  indirect, 
partly    negative    and    partly    positive.     Science    has    in- 
fluenced literature  directly  by  suggesting   new 
enceof  literary  themes,  by  opening  up  new  realms  to 

Cr^  1 1^  n  f*  o 

the  imagination,  by  increasing  the  range  of  im- 
agery and  illustration,  by  giving  new  conceptions  of  the 
universe  and  of  man,  by  emphasizing  the  reign  of  all- 
embracing  and  unalterable  law,  by  teaching  new  methods 
of  analysis  and  research,  by  laying  stress  upon  the  idea 
of  organic  growth,  by  stimulating  anew  man's  deep-seated 
passion  for  truth  and  reality.  Its  most  immediate  in- 
fluence has  been  upon  such  writings  as  those  of  Darwin 
and  Huxley  and  Tyndall  and  Spencer  —  writings  scientific 
in  subject  and  purpose,  yet  possessed  of  no  small  degree 
of  literary  quahty.  Scarcely  less  immediate  has  been  its 
influence  upon  realistic  fiction.  The  close  and  accurate 
study  of  real  life,  the  analysis  of  character  and  motive, 
the  insistence  upon  the  inexorable  laws  of  human  being,  the 
conception  of  evolutionary  growth,  are  but  some  of  the 
ways  in  which  the  novelists  have  manifested  the  scientific 
spirit.  Much  of  this  will  be  found  in  Thackeray,  still 
more  in  George  Eliot.  How  far  these  and  like  influences 
are  manifested  in  other  great  writers,  we  shall  have  later 
occasion  to  ask. 

The   indirect  influence   of   science  upon  literature   has 
been    quite    as    powerful  and  important.     Science,  as  we 


DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1S92)  333 

have  implied,  has  affected  all  classes,  from  the  highest  to 
the  lowest.     The  improvement  in  the  conditions 

Indirect 

of  living,  the  increase  of  prosperity,  the  advance  influence  of 
in  material  civilization,  the  mastery  over  the 
resources  of  nature,  the  growth  of  industrialism  and  com- 
mercialism, the  freedom  of  intercourse  among  civilized 
nations,  the  revelation  as  to  natural  law,  the  impetus 
to  philosophical  thinking,  the  transformation  of  method  in 
nearly  all  departments  of  research,  the  disturbance  of  relig- 
ious faith  and  opinion,  the  change  of  attitude  toward  all 
the  great  problems  of  existence  —  all  these  have  affected 
literature  no  less  profoundly  because  their  influence  was 
indirect.  Literature,  as  we  have  already  pointed  out, 
never  e.xpresses  the  life  of  an  age  completely.  Least  of 
all  could  it  do  so  in  an  age  like  this,  so  many  of  whose 
ideas  and  ideals  were  anything  but  literary  Neverthe- 
less, literature  has  been  one  product  of  the  life  in  which 
these  forces  were  moving,  and  it  therefore  manifests  at 
least  indirectly  the  influence  of  the  scientific  impulse.  In 
no  single  direction  has  this  indirect  influence  of  science 
been  more  strongly  felt  than  in  the  direction  of  its  effect 
on  religious  thought.  Carlyle,  for  instance,  feels  the 
scientific  impulse  more  than  he  knows,  but  is  chiefly 
moved  by  it  in  an  indirect  way  to  the  insistence  upon  the 
reality  of  spirit  behind  the  material  garment.  On  the 
great  poets,  also,  the  scientific  influence  has  been  chiefly 
indirect  and  mainly  through  the  same  religious  channel. 
They  have  for  the  mi^st  part  accepted  the  conclusions  of 
science  with  loyal  devotion  to  truth  ;  but  they  have  not 
found  in  science  much  direct  poetic  inspiration.  Science 
has  affected  them  rather  by  affecting  their  attitude  toward 
great  spiritual  questions  —  questions  of  religion  and  of 
life.  No  poem  of  the  age  is  more  typical  than  Tennyson's 
///  Metnoriam.  It  reveals  the  struggle  of  a  great  soul  with 
the    doubts    and    fears    which    science    has    induced,    the 


334  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

vindication  of  "  the  larger  hope "  against  an  aggressive 
materiahsm.  The  struggle  of  Arnold  is  more  futile ;  his 
mood  is  sadder.  A  sorrowful  resignation  breathes  through 
Dover  Beach,  a  sad  assurance  of  powers  that  make  for 
righteousness  through  such  poems  as  Palladmm  and 
Rugby  CJiapel.  Morris  seems  to  himself  but  "the  idle 
singer  of  an  empty*  day."  Swinburne  finds  consolation 
only  in  the  fact 

That  no  life  lives  forever ; 
That  dead  men  rise  up  never ; 
That  even  the  weariest  river 
Winds  somewhere  safe  to  sea. 

To  him  the  end  of  all  things  is 

Only  the  sleep  eternal 
In  an  eternal  night. 

Only  one  voice  of  assured  faith  and  optimism  has  rung 
clear  like  a  trumpet  across  all  this  tumult.  Robert  Brown- 
ing—  looking  science  fearlessly  in  the  face,  accepting  with- 
out a  murmur  or  a  protest  all  that  she  has  proved,  hiding 
his  head  in  the  sands  of  no  blindly  orthodox  creed — is  yet 
confidently  certain  that 

God's  in  his  heaven  — 
AlPs  right  with  the  world! 

The  influence  of  science  on  literature  has  been  both 
positive  and  negative.  On  the  positive  side,  many  men 
„   . .        ^     have  accepted  its  conclusions,  have  availed  them- 

Positive  and  '- 

Negative         sclvcs  of  its  stimulus    and   its   resources,  have 

Influences  c         ^  ^  iii  c  •       •    n  i-- 

frankly  made  the  best  of  its  influence  on  religious 
faith,  on  spiritual  conceptions,  and  on  all  the  other  great 
problems  of  life  and  thought.  Others  have  been  thrown 
into  an  attitude  of  opposition  and  revolt,  and  have  either 
challenged  the  new  movement  in  hopeless  conflict  or  have 
sought  relief  from  its  oppressive  weight  in  sad  resignation 
or  in  the  old  escape  from  the  trouble  of  the  world  into  the 


DEMOCRACY   AND  SCIExNCE   (1S32-1892)  335 

serene  realm  of  the  romantic  imagination.  To  some  such 
and  to  many  men  of  science,  it  has  seemed  that  science  is 
necessarily  hostile  to  poetry.  Probably  in  one  sense  it  is ; 
for  by  extending  the  field  of  definite  knowledge,  it  tends  to 
limit  the  realm  of  mystery  v/hich  is  the  true  domain  of  the 
poet.  Yet  thus  far,  science  has  suggested  more  mysteries 
than  it  has  solved.  When  science  has  done  its  perfect 
work,  poetry  may  be  swallowed  up  in  knowledge,  as  faith 
will  be  lost  in  sight.  When  knowledge  is  so  complete  that 
there  is  no  more  room  for  the  e.xcrcise  of  imagination,  then 
it  will  be  time  to  say  that  science  has  been  fatal  to  poetry. 
For  the  present,  we  may  think  of  scientist  and  poet  as  com- 
plementary to  each  other,  and  may  content  ourselves  with 
the  saying  of  Wordsworth  that  "  poetry  is  the  im- 
passioned expression  which  is  in  the  countenance  of  all 
science." 

Such  brief  allusion  is,  of  course,  utterly  inadequate  to  do 
anything  more  than  barely  suggest  the  influence  of  de- 
mocracy and  science  upon  literature  during  the  Victorian 
Period.  Our  further  discussion  must  show  the  application 
of  these  general  statements  to  particular  cases.  In  the 
meantime,  two  things  at  least  are  clear.  One  is  that 
science  has  not  in  our  time  proved  destructive  of  literature. 
The  other  is  that  the  earlier  materialistic  tendencies  of 
science  have  not  silenced  in  our  poets  that  instinctive  belief 
in  spiritual  verities  which  even  science  itself  is  coming  more 
and  more  to  justify.     As  we  turn  to  a  considera- 

•  Vflrictv  of 

tion  of  the  literary  work  of  the  age,  nothing  is  Literature  in 
more  striking  than  its  wonderful  variety  and  com-  *^*  '^*'' 
plexity.  The  two  great  forces  of  Democracy  and  Science, 
working  sometimes  in  harmony  and  sometimes  in  conflict, 
operating  directly  and  indirectly  in  all  departments  of  lit- 
erature, have  created  a  literary  situation  more  than  usually 
confusing.  It  is  impracticable  to  divide  the  age  chrono- 
logically, for  the  work  of  many  of  its  greatest  men  runs 


336 


DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 


clear  through  the  whole  period.  The  best  solution  of  the 
difficulty  seems  to  be  a  division  of  the  literature  into  mis- 
cellaneous prose,  the  novel,  and  poetry,  and  a  consideration 
of  each  of  these  branches  of  literary  work  in  a  separate 
chapter. 


MACAULAY's  House  in  London 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  PROSE  (1832-1892) 

Thomas  Habington  Macaulav  was  one  of  those  rare  men 
who,  in  the  phrase  of  De  Ouincey,  drew  in  the  lottery  of 
life  the  double  prize  of  a  fine  intellect  and  a  Lo^d 
healthy  stomach.  He  was,  on  the  one  side,  a  fine  Macauiay 
animal,  and  on  tiie  other,  a  man  of  brilliant  political  and 
literary  genius.  The  note  of  his  character  was  the  note  of 
buoyant  and  cheerful  optimism.  The  world  in  which  he 
lived  seemed  to  him  a  good  world,  and  he  had  a  confident 
faith  in  human  progress  and  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of 
right  principles.  There  was  in  him  nothing  of  the  temper 
of  the  revolutionist ;  yet  he  saw  with  clear  vision  some  of 
the  more  striking  evils  of  his  day  and  set  about  righting 
them.  He  had  still  less  of  the  temper  of  the  visionary  and 
the  idealist.  He  dreamed  no  divine  dreams  which  were 
impossible  of  realization  in  a  practical  world.  He  voiced 
no  passionate  cry  of  human  longing  or  aspiration.  A 
temper  like  Shelley's,  for  instance,  could  probably  have 
awakened  in  him  neither  sympathy  nor  understanding. 
His  nature  was  eminently  practical.  What  he  saw  was  the 
plain  fact  of  life  in  the  clear  light  of  every  day.  What  he 
sought  was  such  betterment  in  the  conditions  of  life  as 
were  within  the  scope  of  reason  and  possibility.  Such  a 
man  seemed  born  to  grapple  with  the  actual  realities  of  the 
world  rather  than  to  lead  men  in  the  ])ath  of  infinite 
spiritual  devel()|)ment.  The  world  needs  ail  sorts  of 
leaders,  and  could  no  more  do  without  its  Macaulays  than 
without  its  Shclleys.  Indeed,  the  former  are  the  more 
absolute   necessity.      Man    must  live,    in   order   to  aspire. 

3J7 


33S  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

He  must  first  live  by  bread,  in  order  that  he  may  come  to 
know  that  he  "  shall  not  live  by  bread  alone."  Macaulay 
spoke  to  the  great  masses  of  men.  He  spoke  to  move 
them  to  practical  action  or  to  definite  comprehension.  He 
accomplished  his  task  ;  and  we  may  well  be  thankful  for 
what  he  did  and  look  to  other  men  for  the  great  spiritual 
message.  It  would  seem  as  though  just  such  men  as  he 
were  necessary  in  a  democratic  state  of  society,  and  per- 
haps the  natural  product  of  democratic  conditions.  Ma- 
caulay, at  any  rate,  served  well  his  day  and  generation.  He 
had  grown  up  in  an  age  when  individualism  was  growing 
in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men,  he  came  into  public  life 
at  the  time  when  conditions  were  ripe  for  practical  demo- 
cratic action,  and  he  took  his  effective  part  with  other  great 
leaders  of  the  age  in  bringing  about  the  beginnings  of 
democratic  development.  In  order  to  see  this  practical 
relation  of  the  man  to  his  age,  it  will  be  desirable  to  glance 
briefly  at  some  of  the  most  salient  points  of  his  Hfe 
before  turning  to  the  consideration  of  his  hterary  work. 
Macaulay's  father  was  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Society  for  the  Abolition  of  Slavery,  and  edited  an 
Macaulay's  abolitiouist  newspaper.  We  may  fancy  from 
^**^  this  fact  the  sort  of  political   school  in  which 

Macaulay  grew  up.  His  university  training  was  received 
at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  He  became  a  fine  classical 
and  historical  scholar,  obtained  a  considerable  reputation 
as  an  orator  and  debater,  and  twice  won  the  Chan- 
cellor's medal  for  English  verse.  His  earlier  literary 
work  gave  evidence  of  a  deliberate  purpose  to  broaden  his 
mind,  to  increase  his  knowledge,  and  to  train  himself 
as  a  writer.  At  twenty-five,  he  made  his  first  important 
bid  for  literary  fame  by  his  Essay  on  Milton,  a  most 
brilliant  piece  of  work.  His  literary  efforts  soon  brought 
him  into  notice  ;  and  five  years  later,  at  the  age  of  thirty, 
he  was  in  the  House  of  Commons.     In  the  debates  leading 


THE   AGE   OF   TENNYSOiN —PROSE    (1832-1892)      339 

up  to  the  passage  of  the  great  Reform  Bill  in  1832,  he 
was  one  of  the  most  prominent  speakers  and  leaders,  and 
the  success  of  that  most  important  measure  for  the  ex- 
tension of  the  elective  franchise  was  due  in  no  small 
degree  to  his  efforts.  In  the  Reformed  Parliament,  he 
continued  to  be  a  most  active  and  useful  member.  In 
1834  he  was  made  president  of  a  new  law  commission 
for  India,  and  a  member  of  the  Supreme  Council  of 
Calcutta.  In  connection  with  these  important  duties,  he 
spent  two  years  and  a  half  in  India,  returning  to  Eng- 
land in  1838.  During  all  this  time,  he  had  continued 
his  literary  labors,  and  now  desired  to  devote  himself 
exclusively  to  literature.  He  was,  however,  again  elected 
to  Parliament  in  1839.  During  the  next  few  years, 
he  held  such  important  ofifices  as  Secretary  for  War, 
Paymaster-General,  and  member  of  the  Cabinet.  He 
was  a  strong  partisan,  and  was  consequently  often  on 
the  wrong  side  of  important  questions.  In  other  cases, 
however,  he  was  the  vigorous  champion  of  liberty  and 
of  progress.  On  the  whole,  his  political  career  was  of 
decided  benefit  to  his  country  and  mankind.  The  chief 
opposition  and  criticism  which  he  aroused  was  because 
of  his  liberal  and  advanced  views.  His  literary  work 
had  at  no  time  ceased,  and  in  1849  he  published  the 
first  two  volumes  of  his  History  of  England.  Later 
volumes  were  published  in  1855.  No  work  since  the 
Waverley  Novels  had  created  such  general  enthusiasm 
or  been  bought  with  such  eagerness.  The  close  of  his 
life  was  rich  in  public  honors.  He  was  successively 
made  Lord  Rector  of  the  University  of  Glasgow,  Fellow 
of  the  Royal  Society,  Foreign  Member  of  the  French 
Academy,  High  Steward  of  Cambridge,  and  Baron  Ma- 
caulay  of  Rothley.  He  died  in  1859,  in  his  sixtieth  year. 
It  was  a  short  life  for  a  man  of  such  robust  constitution 
and  regular  habits.     The  fact  is  that  Macaulay  had  spent 


340  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

too  lavishly  his  splendid  vitality  and  energy,  both  in  the 
service  of  the  commonweal  and  in  the  more  enduring 
service  of  literature. 

Macaulay's  literary  genius  was  preeminently  that  of  a 
great  essayist.  In  his  chosen  field  and  in  his  chosen 
Macaulay's  manner,  he  has  probably  had  no  equal.  What 
Essays  ^.j^jg  |^^j^  ^^^  ^.j^jg  manner  were,  we  must  briefly 

illustrate.  Macaulay's  first  notable  work,  the  Essay  on 
Milton,  is  typical  of  his  excursions  in  the  iield  of  English 
literature.  Among  others  of  less  note  there  are  essays  on 
Bacon,  Drydcn,  Bunyan,  Sir  William  Temple,  Addison, 
Johnson,  Goldsmith,  and  Byron.  Macaulay  also  invaded  the 
field  of  foreign  hterature,  both  ancient  and  modern,  writing 
on  such  themes  as  The  Athenian  Orators,  Dante,  Petrarch, 
and  Machiavelli.  He  was  not  a  great  literary  critic ;  and 
his  limitations  were  particularly  apparent  where  an  ade- 
quate appreciation  of  his  subject  called  for  spiritual 
insight  or  for  delicate  feeling.  He  was  strong,  however, 
in  the  very  useful  critical  virtue  of  common  sense.  It  is 
rather  in  the  iield  of  historical  biography  than  in  the  field 
of  literary  criticism  that  Macaulay  is  most  distinguished. 
In  English  history,  he  began  with  Hampden,  and  treated 
such  great  characters  as  Williajn  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham, 
and  the  younger  William  Pitt.  His  residence  in  India 
had  given  him  a  special  acquaintance  with  Indian 
affairs,  and  led  to  such  famous  works  as  the  Essay  on 
Warren  Hastings  and  the  Essay  on  Lord  Clive.  His  in- 
terest in  general  European  history  is  well  represented  by 
his  essays  on  Mirabeaii  and  Frederick  the  Great.  It  will 
readily  appear  that  his  favorite  subject  of-  treatment  was 
biography,  and  especially  biography  associated  with  his- 
tory. In  dealing  with  such  themes,  he  displayed  a  style 
clear,  concrete,  and  brilliant  to  the  last  degree.  He 
lacked  subtlety,  suggestiveness,  spirituality,  pathos ;  but 
he  could  make  his  readers  understand,  and  he  could  stimu- 


THE   AGE   OF   TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1832-1S92)      341 

late  their  attention  and  secure  their  unwearied  interest 
by  his  swift,  breezy,  and  energetic  manner.  Few  passages 
display  his  vigor,  his  self-confidence,  his  hicid  and  tren- 
chant expression,  better  than  the  conclusion  of  his  essay  on 
Barerc : 

Something  more  we  had  to  say  about  him.  But  let  him  go.  We  did 
not  seek  him  out  and  will  not  keep  him  longer.  If  those  who  call  them- 
selves his  friends  liad  not  forced  liim  on  our  notice  we  should  never 
have  vouchsafed  to  him  more  than  a  passing  word  of  scorn  and  abhor- 
rence. .  .  .  We  have  no  pleasure  in  seeing  human  nature  thus  de- 
graded. We  turn  with  disgust  from  the  filthy  and  spiteful  Yahoos  of 
the  fiction ;  and  the  filthiest  and  most  spiteful  Yahoo  of  the  fiction  was 
a  noble  creature  when  compared  with  the  Bar^re  of  history.  But  what 
is  no  pleasure  .M.  Hippolyte  Carnot  has  made  a  duty.  It  is  no  light 
thing  that  a  man  in  high  and  honourable  public  trust  .  .  .  should  come 
forward  to  demand  approbation  for  a  life  black  with  every  sort  of  wicked- 
ness, and  unredeemed  by  a  single  virtue.  This  M.  Hippolyte  Carnot 
has  done.  By  attempting  to  enshrine  this  Jacobin  carrion,  he  has 
forced  us  to  gibbet  it ;  and  we  venture  to  say  that,  from  the  eminence 
of  infamy  on  which  we  have  placed  it,  he  will  not  easily  take  it  down. 

Macaulay's  History  of  llnglaiid  is  characterized  by  most 
of  the  qualities  that  mark  his  Essays.  He  believed  that  his- 
tory should  combine  careful  research,  accurate  History  of 
statement  of  facts,  and  a  vivid  and  concrete  pres-  England 
entation  —  that  it  should  unite  the  descriptive  and  narrative 
interest  of  a  novel  with  the  true  historical  record.  Putting 
this  theory  into  brilliant  practice,  he  wrote  history  as  it  had 
never  been  written  before.  He  says,  "The  perfect  his- 
torian is  he  in  whose  work  the  character  and  spirit  of  an 
age  is  exhibited  in  miniature."  It  was  this  that  he  aimed 
at  and  in  ]ar<,^c  measure  attained.  As  mere  history,  it  is 
open  to  the  charge  of  partisanship,  of  superficiality,  of  lack 
of  proportion,  and  of  sacrificing  historical  truth  to  dramatic 
effect.  As  a  jjiece  of  brilliant  imaginative  writing,  it  com- 
mandsalmost  unqualified  j)raise.  The  characters  of  history 
live,  the  events  of  hi.story  are  realized  by  the  imagination, 
the    past    becomes  vital  with  human  meaning. 


342  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

The  essential  characteristics  of  Macaulay's  literary  gen- 
ius have  been  already  implied.  He  was  a  man  of  mar- 
Macauiay's  velous  industry,  sparing  no  labor  in  acquiring 
Genius  knowledge,    in   expressing    his    thought,    or   in 

serving  the  public  welfare.  He  was  a  man  of  most  re- 
markable memory.  The  story  that  he  coujd  repeat  the 
whole  of  Paradise  Lost  is  only  one  of  many  wonders  re- 
lated of  him.  He  was  a  man  of  clear  vision,  of  vivid 
imagination,  and  of  remarkable  powers  of  expression. 
He  was  even,  in  his  own  way,  a  poet  —  not  merely  in 
the  imaginative  power  of  his  graphic  descriptions,  but  in 
the  actual  writing  of  verse.  Such  poems  as 
Horatius,  from  his  Lays  of  Ancietit  Rome,  and 
the  Battle  of  Ivry  and  the  Battle  of  Naseby,  from  his 
Miscellaneous  Poems,  do  not  rise  to  the  higher  poetical 
levels  ;  but  they  are  nevertheless  genuine  poetry.  Popular 
taste  has  certainly  endorsed  them,  and  popular  taste  will 
be  justified  by  a  fair  and  catholic  criticism. 

In  almost  all  possible  respects,  Thomas  Carlyle  was  in 
marked  contrast  with  Macaulay.  Indeed,  it  would  be  dif- 
Thomas  ficult  to  find  anywhere  his  parallel  or  his  ana- 

Cariyie  logue.     When  we  recall  that  he  was  born  in 

1795,  it  will  not  seem  strange  that  he  possessed  much  of 
that  intensely  individualistic  spirit  which  characterized  the 
earlier  generation.  But  even  this  was  with  a  difference 
and  in  his  own  peculiar  way.  He  was  certainly  himself  a 
unique  individuality  —  even  to  the  extent  of  oddity,  whim- 
sicality, perversity,  and  violent  prejudice.  He  was,  more- 
over, a  believer  in  strongly  individual  personaUty.  This 
does  not  mean  that  he  was  a  believer  in  the  common  man. 
What  Carlyle  believed  in  was  the  uncommon  man.  Ty- 
rants, autocrats,  aristocrats,  men  of  rank  and  privilege, 
were  his  abhorrence.  He  set  his  faith  on  the  strong  indi- 
r>t  vidual  soul,  and  believed  that  such  a  soul  had  not  merely 
the  right  to  be  equal  with  other  men,  but  the  right  to  be 


*^.  GxvCv<^ 


THE    AGE    OF    TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1832-1S92)      343 

superior  to  other  men.  The  business  of  government  -in 
the  world,  properly  understood,  was  to  find  the  able  and 
righteous  man  and  to  put  him  in  the  place  of  power.  The 
business  of  the  great  mass  of  men  was  to  obey  and  to  fol- 
low such  heaven-sent  leaders  —  not  to  rule  themselves. 

This  was  individualism  in  an  extreme  form  ;  but  it  cer- 
tainly was  not  the  spirit  of  democracy.  It  was  the  rec- 
ognition  of   great   character,    wherever   found ; 

1  •  1  ,  ,  .  Attitude 

but  It  was  by  no  means  the  democratic  assump-  toward 
tion  that  all  men  are  equal  or  that  the  voice  of  ■°°"^'=y 
the  people  is  the  voice  of  God.  Coming  upon  a  deiuo- 
cratic  age,  Carlyle  found  himself  in  harmony  with  it  so 
far  as  it  insisted  upon  the  recognition  of  individual  worth, 
on  freedom  from  tyranny  and  oppression,  on  equal  oppor- 
tunity for  all  men  according  to  their  powers ;  beyond  this, 
his  attitude  was  one  of  criticism  and  of  protest.  The  world 
that  seemed  to  Macaulay  about  the  best  of  all  possible  . 
worlds  seemed  to  Carlyle  about  the  worst.  He  wanted 
men  to  think  of  obedience  and  of  duty  rather  than  of  free- 
dom and  equality.  The  effect  of  democracy  on  him  was 
therefore  peculiar.  Instead  of  carrying  him  along  with  it, 
it  made  him  a  great  critic  and  censor  of  contemporary  life. 
His  influence  was  in  one  sense  depressing  and  discourag- 
ing ;  but  in  another,  it  was  wholesome  and  uplifting.  He 
helped  to  keep  men  from  forgetting  some  things  which 
they  seemed  likely  to  ignore.  He  taught  them  that  free-  V. 
dom  and  equality  are  not  all  of  life,  but  that  love,  work, 
and  obedience  have  also  their  place.  In  a  way,  therefore, 
his  genius  felt  the  influence  of  the  age,  though  in  some 
respects  he  was  driven  to  reaction  rather  than  to  advance 
or  to  sympathy. 

Carlyle's  relation  to  science  was  somewhat  similar.  He 
was  in  sympathy  with  the  scientific  doctrine  of  law  as 
against  the  dem(jcratic  doctrine  of  liberty.  No  man  was 
more  eager  than  he  to  preach  the  necessity  ol   recogniz- 


344  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

ing  and  obeying  law.  He  was  in  sympathy  with  science, 
likewise,  in  its  inflexible  devotion  to  truth  and  reality. 
.  .    ,  No    man  was  a  more   intense    lover  of    truth ; 

Attitude  ' 

toward  no  man  a  more  scornful  hater  of  all  falsity  and 

sham  and  pretense  and  unreality.  The  one 
feature  of  the  scientific  movement  that  most  aroused  Car- 
lyle's  antagonism  was  its  tendency  toward  materialism. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Carlyle  —  like  many  other  men  of 
yi  the  age  —  was  profoundly  disturbed  in  his  reHgious  beliefs. 
How  far  this  was  the  direct  result  of  science  may  be  ques- 
tioned ;  but  it  was  the  result  of  the  general  unrest  and 
unfaith  which  science  tended  to  induce.  In  spite,  how- 
ever, of  all  religious  disturbance  in  his  soul,  Carlyle  clung 
to  the  profound  conviction  that  this  is  essentially  a  world 
of  spirit  —  that  materiahsm  would  make  it  a  "dog-ken- 
nel" of  a  world,  instead  of  an  antechamber  to  heaven. 
Feeling  that  the  tendency  of  sciencewas  materialistic,  his 
conscious  attitude  toward  it  was, one  ofThostiTityT  He  was 
affected  by  it  more  than  he  knew,  he  was  in  sympathy 
with  it  at  its  best  more  than  he  realized ;  but  he  felt  called 
upon  to  oppose  many  of  its  pretensions  and  to  preach  the 
doctrine  of  the  spirituality  of  existence.  Here  again  he 
became  a  critic  and  a  censor  of  the  age.  He  became  also 
a  great  prophet  —  crying,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  in  a  spir- 
itual wilderness.  Carlyle  was  a  great  literary  genius,  a 
strong,  original,  philosophical  thinker ;  but  more  than  all 
else,  he  was  a  great  preacher  —  a  preacher  of  duty  and 
labor  and  obedience,  a  preacher  of  spiritual  faith  and 
practical  righteousness.  He  was  of  his  age,  and  felt  the 
great  impulses  that  were  moving  its  life  and  thought,  even 
though  his  character  and  convictions  led  him  to  cry  out 
against  it  with  all  the  strength  of  his  prophetic  soul  and 
of  his  splendid  genius. 

There  is  comparatively  little  in  Carlyle's  life  that  calls 
for  particular  mention.     He  was  born  at  Ecclefechan  in 


THE    AGE    OF    TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1832-1S92)      345 

the  Scotch  Lowlands,  of  a  sturdy  and  God-fearing  peasant 
stock.  Educated  at  the  grammar-school  of  Annan  and 
afterward   at   the   University  of  Edinburgh,  he 

.  ,  ,      •,        Carlyle's  Life 

was  at  first  destined  for  the  mmistry,  but  delib- 
erately  forsook  that  calling   for  the  walks  of   literature. 
Against  terrible  odds  of   poverty,    loneliness,   dyspepsia, 
hostile  criticism,  and  religious  doubt,  he  fought  his  hard 
battle.     For  six  years,  after  his  marriage  with  Jane  Welsh, 
he  lived  and  toiled  at  the  lonely  farmhouse  of  Craigenput- 
toch,   slowly  building  up   his  literary  fame.     His  studies 
in   German   literature    and    philosophy  were  coloring   his 
thought  and  affording  material  for  his  pen.     He  was  put- 
ting his  deep  life  experience    into  Sartor   Rcsartus.      In 
1834   he  removed  to  London,  where  he  spent  the  remain- 
der of  his  long  life.     Here  his  fame  steadily  grew  as  he 
poured  forth  his  powerful  and  voluminous  body  of  literary 
work.     For  a  generation  he  was  a  venerated  teacher  and 
an  accepted  prophet  of  his  time.     In  1 866  he  was  made  Lord 
Rector  of  the  University  of  Edinburgh  ;  but  this  mark  of 
his  triumph  was  embittered  by  the  death  of  his  wife.     He 
died   in    1881,   full  of  years  and  honors,  and  was  buried 
among  his  own  kindred  in  his  native  village  of  Ecclefechan. 
Carlyle  began  his  literary  work  as  early  as   1823,  and 
continued  it  until  his  death.     His  first  publication  was  a 
translation  of  Goethe's  W'ilhchn  Mcistcr.      His   Early  Liter- 
next  was  a  Life  of  S chilli' r,  2iX\d   this  was  soon   ^^^^^^^^ 
followed    by    numerous    translations   from    the    German. 
These  works  are  especially  important  as  indicating  the  in- 
fluence exerted  ujion  his  earlier  development  by  German 
ideas  and   German    literary  tendencies.     More    than    any 
other   one    man,    Goethe   was   his  ideal    and    his    master. 
Carlyle  was  a  man  of  very  different  temper  from  the  great 
German.     The    latter  was  a  large,  broad,  serene    nature, 
while  the  inspired  .Scotchman  was  narrow,  bigoted,  intense, 
but  tremendously  forceful.     Nevertheless,  there  seems  to 


346  DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

have  been  something  of  natural  affinity  between  the  two, 
as  there  was  also  between  Carlyle  and  the  general  temper 
of  the  German  mind.  This  illustrates  in  its  way  the  grow- 
ing cosmopolitanism  of  literature  which  finds  so  many  il- 
lustrations during  the  nineteenth  century.  Carlyle's  own 
later  work  has  many  reminders  of  this  modern  condition  of 
affairs.  .  Especially  does  his  first  great  masterpiece,  Sartor 
Rcsartus,  show  the  influence  of  German  ideas.  Carlyle's 
work  is  exceedingly  voluminous,  and  can  not  here  be  consid- 
ered in  detail.  There  are,  however,  certain  representative 
works  which  serve  to  display  his  characteristic  genius  and 
his  typical  modes  of  thought,  and  these  may  receive  brief 
individual  notice  as  specimens  of  the  whole. 

Sartor  Resartiis'i^  one  of  the  most  astonishing  and  unique 
books  of  the  century.  The  title  means  "the  tailor  retail- 
Sartor  ored,"  and  suggests  symbolically  Carlyle's  main 

Resartus  idea.  The  book  humorously  pretends  to  be  the 
confused  and  fragmentary  collection  of  the  outpourings  of 
a  half-crazy  German  philosopher  named  Diogenes  Teufels- 
drockh,  of  Weissnichtwo.  It  is  a  so-called  "philosophy  of 
clothes,"  and  mingles  Carlyle's  theory  of  the  universe  and  of 
man  with  a  good  deal  of  autobiographical  matter  setting 
forth  his  spiritual  experiences.  The  work  is  grotesque,  both 
in  conception  and  in  style.  It  is  terrible,  in  its  revelation 
of  Carlyle's  spiritual  struggles.  It  is  profound,  in  its  deep 
and  far-reaching  philosophy.  It  is  tremendously  power- 
ful, in  its  emotional  intensity  and  in  its  imaginative  vigor. 
The  singular  book  is  too  confused,  too  complicated,  too  rich 
in  suggestion,  too  profound  in  thought,  to  allow  of  brief  ex- 
position. It  must  suffice,  therefore,  to  indicate  its  main  pur- 
pose. By  "  clothes"  Carlyle  meant  the  outward  vesture  and 
wrappings  of  the  essential  reality.  The  forms  of  nature,  the 
human  body,  even  man's  thoughts,  deeds,  and  expressions 
—  all  are  "clothes."  In  the  deepest  interpretation,  these 
are  only  the  outward  symbols  of  the  spiritual  facts  which 


THE    AGE    OF   TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1S32-1S92)       347 

they  enshrine.  The  universe,  at  the  heart  of  it,  is  not  ma- 
terial but  spiritual.  The  book  is  the  symbol  of  Carlyle's 
spiritual  philosophy  ;  and  it  sets  forth  the  bitter  agony  of 
his  own  struggle  out  of  the  depths  into  the  light. 

Carlyle's  next  great  work  was  The  French  Revolution. 
It  is  more  like  a  great  epic  poem  than  like  a  sober  history. 
Carlyle  believed  with  Macaulay  that  bistory  ^j^^  p^^^^j^ 
should  be  made  alive  to  the  imagination  ;  but  Revolution 
how  vastly  different  from  Macaulay's  are  his  methods  and 
results.  Of  the  gift  of  clear  and  orderly  narrative,  he  dis- 
plays little  ;  but  his  power  of  vivid  and  picturesque  descrip- 
tion and  his  genius  for  the  dramatic  realization  of  historic 
characters  have  never  been  surpassed  since  Shakespeare. 
His  faculty  of  pouring  out  his  own  passionate  emotion  into 
his  descriptions,  of  making  himself  as  it  were  an  actor  in 
his  dramatic  scenes,  is  quite  his  own.  The  blood-curdling 
horrors  of  the  "  Reign  of  Terror,"  the  tremendous  and  almost 
superhuman  actors  in  the  great  tragedy  of  the  Revolution, 
find  in  him  their  master  and  their  inspired  delineator.  He 
seemed,  indeed,  the  man  born  for  such  a  task.  He  could 
ride  that  whirlwind  undismayed.  He  could  select  from  all 
its  weltering  confusions  the  men  and  the  events  that  were 
most  dramatic,  most  significant,  most  symbolic,  and  could 
make  them  stand  forth  in  all  their  living  colors  and  in  all 
their  historic  meaning.  It  is  unlike  any  other  book  that 
has  ever  been  written,  it  is  unlike  any  book  that  ever  will 
be  written,  on  the  same  theme.  Others  may  give  us  the 
facts  of  the  hist(jry  in  more  orderly  array.  Carlyle  has 
given  us  a  picture  that  moves  and  breathes  with  his  own 
intense  life. 

Heroes  and  Hero-  Worship  is  one  of  Carlyle's  most  char- 
acteristic productions.  It  sets  forth  his  distinctive 

...  Heroes 

theory   that   "universal    history,   the   history  of  and  Hero- 
what  man  has  accomplished  in  this  world,  is  at      "'"  '' 
bottom  the  history  of  the  great  men  who  have  worked  here." 


348  DEMOCRACY   AND  SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

Such  men  are  the  world's  "real  kings,"  the  men  who  have  the 
right  to  rule,  and  whom  other  men  have  the  duty  to  obey 
and  to  follow.  The  work  is  in  form  a  series  of  six  lectures 
on  "the  heroic  in  history."  The  titles  of  the  several  lec- 
tures will  convey  the  best  idea  of  their  scope :  "  The  Hero 
as  Divinity.  —  Odin.  —  Paganism:  Scandinavian  Mythol- 
ogy "  ;  "The  Hero  as  Prophet.  —  Mahomet :  Islam  "  ;  "  The 
Hero  as  Poet.  —  Dante:  Shakespeare";  "The  Hero  as 
Priest.  —  Luther;  Reformation:  Knox;  Puritanism";  "The 
Hero  as  Man  of  Letters. — Johnson,  Rousseau,  Burns"; 
"The  Hero  as  King.  —  Cromwell,  Napoleon  :  Modern  Rev- 
olutionism." Nothing  save  the  actual  reading  of  them  can 
convey  an  idea  of  their  singular  character  and  of  their 
marvelous  style.  They  embody  much  of  Carlyle's  charac- 
teristic attitude  toward  modern  democracy.  They  show 
that  he  found  his  historic  ideal,  not  in  the  people,  but  in 
the  world's  men  of  supreme  genius  and  character.  Hero- 
worship  seemed  to  him  a  lesson  that  democracy  needed  to 
learn. 

Carlyle's  attitude  toward  great  men  is  still  further  illus- 
trated by  his  series  of  biographies.  We  have  already 
Biographical  mentioned  his  Life  of  Schiller.  There  are  vari- 
Wntings  Q^jg  essays  that  have  more  or  less  of  a  biographical 
character.  Carlyle  loved  to  seize  on  a  striking  or  heroic 
figure  and  give  it  illustration  on  a  larger  or  smaller  scale. 
One  of  his  favorite  heroes  was  Oliver  Cromwell ;  and  his 
Cromzvell's  Letters  and  Speeches  is  one  of  his  most  sympa- 
thetic as  well  as  scholarly  pieces  of  work.  As  might 
be  expected,  Carlyle  does  not  allow  Cromwell  to  speak 
altogether  for  himself.  The  letters  and  speeches  are 
given  "with  elucidations,"  and  Carlyle  "elucidates"  in  his 
own  characteristic  fashion.  Sometimes  he  flings  his  own 
dramatic  word  into  the  very  midst  of  one  of  Cromwell's 
speeches  in  a  way  that  reminds  us  of  his  habit  of  making 
himself  an  actor  in  the  scenes  of  his  Frencli  Revolution. 


THE  ACE  OF  TEXNYSOX  — PROSE    (1S32-1S92)       349 

The  Life  of  Joint  Sterlitig  is  a  more  quiet  and  restrained 
but  not  less  deeply  sympathetic  biography  of  his  personal 
friend.  More  heroic  in  proportions  is  his  History^  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  a  magnificent  historical  panorama  in 
twenty-one  books.  The  great  builder  of  the  Prussian 
kingdom  and  layer  of  foundations  for  the  German  Empire 
is  portrayed  in  living  colors  against  the  background  of  the 
history  of  his  age.  Frederick — Carlyle  recognizes  —  was 
no  demigod,  rather  a  very  "  questionable  hero  "  ;  but  he 
was  after  all  "  a  reality,"  a  genuine  "  king." 

Carlyle's  distaste  for  the  democracy  and  the  materialism 
of  his  day  led  him  to  glorify  the  past  as  an  age  of  obedi- 
ence and  of  faith.       In    Past  atld  Present,  \\Q.\\,X.S    Past  and 

drawn  a  strikingly  effective  contrast.  Book  II  P"^*^"' 
of  this  work,  entitled  "  The  Ancient  Monk,"  gives  a  pic- 
ture of  life  in  the  Middle  Ages  which  has  never  been 
surpassed  for  imaginative  vividness  and  which  has  also 
the  merit  of  historical  fidelity.  Book  III,  entitled  "The 
Modern  Worker,"  expresses  his  vigorous  disapproval  of 
modern  conditions  and  methods.  Two  of  his  chapters 
are  entitled  "Gospel  of  Manmionism  "  and  "  Democracy." 
These  titles  indicate  some  of  the  targets  at  which  his 
shafts  were  aimed.  Carlyle's  own  "Gospel,"  whose  main 
features  have  already  been  suggested  in  one  way  or  an- 
other, is  largely  contained  in  this  book ;  but  it  is  still 
further  emphasized  and  expanded  in  works  like  Chartism, 
Latter-Day  Paviphlets,  The  Nis^ger  Question,  and 

■^  ^  ,        ,  !-  Later  Works 

Shooting  Niagara  :  ami  After.  The  first  of 
these  deals,  in  an  exceedingly  undemocratic  spirit,  with 
the  labor  questi(jn.  The  second  discusses  various  modern 
topics.  The  third  is  a  sarcastic  fling  at  the  sentimentalism 
of  the  abolitionists.  The  last  suggests  that  the  demo- 
cratic, industrial,  materialistic  age  is  approaching  the 
brink  of  a  trL-inendous  cataract,  and  Carlyle's  prophetic 
spirit  f<»rebodcs  only  disaster  and  ruin. 


350  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

It  will  have  already  become  apparent  that  behind  Car- 
lyle's  literary  genius  there  was  the  potent  strength  of  a 
Cariyie's  great  character,  an  original  personality,  and  a 
Genius  profound  life  experience.     That  genius  itself  is 

not  easy  to  analyze  or  to  describe,  and  brief  suggestion 
must  suffice.  It  is  probable  that  the  greatest  force  in  his 
literary  work  is  its  vehement,  deep,  and  lofty  pas- 
sion. Cariyie's  heart  was  like  a  volcano,  making  lurid 
wL  the  heavens  with  its  flames  and  carrying  devastation  in 
the  path  of  its  consuming  streams.  Carlyle  was  also 
possessed  of  a  great  creative  imagination.  His  power 
of  vision  was  almost  supernatural.  He  worked  in  the 
realm  of  fact ;  but  he  possessed  an  immense  capability  of 
"realizing"  fact  in  vivid  shapes,  and  of  clothing  fact  in 
ideal  garments.  His  imaginative  faculty  is  chiefly  dis- 
played in  the  dramatic  portrayal  of  historical  characters. 
He  had  the  instinctive  feeling  for  beauty  which  is  an 
element  of  the  poetic  nature,  but  he  had  little  regard  for 
the  claims  of  beauty  as  compared  with  the  claims  of  truth. 
Truth  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  nature,  and  all  his 
books  impress  one  with  their  craving  for  reality.  The 
style  in  which  he  expressed  himself  is  strongly 

His  style  ,1,  ,.,.  •  r,- 

marked  by  the  idiosyncrasies  of  his  own  nature. 
It  is  passionate ;  it  is  vivid  ;  it  is  grotesque  ;  it  is  pathetic  ; 
it  is  rich  with  imagery  ;  it  is  weighty  with  meaning  and  with 
power.  Carlyle  cares  little  for  the  rules  of  rhetoric  and 
has  not  a  slavish  regard  even  for  those  of  grammar.  He 
is  loose,  fragmentary,  interjectional,  bold  to  excess.  He 
cares  only  to  express  his  meaning  and  to  make  his  desired 
impression.  If  he  startles,  astounds,  sometimes  disgusts, 
all  this  is  a  part  of  his  purpose.  He  will  keep  his  reader 
awake  at  all  hazards,  and  he  will  make  him  feel  as  with 
the  tingling  of  electric  shocks.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the 
least  "classical,"  one  of  the  most  individual,  styles  ever 
written.     He   may   be   accused,    as    De   Ouincey   on   far 


THE   AGE  OF   TENNYSON  —  PROSE   (1832-1892)     351 

different  grounds  accused  Keats,  of  "  trampling  upon  his 
mother-tongue  as  with  the  hoofs  of  a  buffalo."  Never- 
theless, his  style  is  powerful,  imaginative,  rhythmic, 
massive  —  touched  at  times  with  poetic  beauty  or  poetic 
splendor  —  sounding  all  the  notes  of  emotion,  from  sub- 
limity to  violent  energy,  from  the  broadest  humor  to  the 
tenderest  pathos.  It  is  the  fitting  and  adequate  expression 
of  a  great  soul. 

John  Ruskin  w^as  a  disciple  of  Carlyle,  and  had  many 
of  the  peculiarities  of  his  master  with  reference  to  his 
modes  of  thought  and  with  reference  to  his  atti-   ^  ^   „    ,. 

"^  _  John  Ruskin 

tude  toward  the  age.  Yet  Ruskin  was  a  man  of 
far  different  genius,  and  in  some  respects  of  far  different 
character.  The  moral  effect  of  the  work  of  the  two  men 
is  not  so  very  far  apart ;  the  purely  literary  effect  is  de- 
cidedly different.  Ruskin  was  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  dog- 
matic as  Carlyle,  and  hardly  less  self-willed.  Moreover, 
he  had  the  like  combination  of  an  erratic  manner  and 
mode  of  expression  with  a  spiritual  tone  and  purpose  that 
was  at  bottom  ever  one  and  the  same.  Both  men  were 
"  wandering  barks,"  sailing  to  all  appearance  under  the 
direction  of  a  capricious  master,  but  guided  in  all  their 
wanderings  by  the  clear  sight  of  the  polar  star.  It  is  per- 
haps not  unworthy  of  note  that,  while  Carlyle  was  a  thor- 
ough and  typical  Scotchman,  Ruskin  was  born  of  Scotch 
parentage.  The  combination  in  them  of  an  arbitrary  will 
with  a  strongly  religious  temperament  seems  peculiarly 
Scotch. 

Ruskin  had  comparatively  little  sympathy  with  democ- 
racy in  the  stricter  sense  of  the  term  ;  but  he  had  a  deep 
and  ever  growing  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  Ruskin  and 
the  oppressed,  a  sympathy  with  the  essential  ^'*^*' 
spirit  of  democratic  ideals  especially  on  the  sociological 
side.  In  order  to  be  helpful  to  his  fellow  men,  hi-  wrote, 
he  labored,   he  spent  practically   the   whole  of  his  large 


352  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

fortune.  Ruskin  had  quite  as  little  sympathy  as  Carlyle 
with  the  materialistic  tendencies  of  science ;  but  with  its 
larger  spirit,  he  was  in  substantial  harmony.  He  had  the 
passionate  love  of  truth  which  was  even  more  than  the 
intellectual  ardor  of  the  scientist.  He  had  a  love  for  na- 
ture which  combined  the  spirit  of  the  scientific  investi- 
gator, the  poet,  and  the  artist.  He  had  an  eye  for  natural 
fact  which  no  student  of  science  could  surpass.  His  tem- 
perament was  perhaps  more  than  anything  else  that  of  the 
artist.  He  was  in  his  generation  an  apostle  of  beauty  — 
beauty  of  form  and  color,  but  likewise  the  beauty  of  right- 
eousness, in  thought,  in  feehng,  and  in  living.  He  pos- 
sessed the  practical  gifts  of  the  artist ;  but  he  chose  to 
set  them  aside  in  order  that  he  might  call  attention  to  the 
beauty  in  the  works  of  other  men.  He  possessed  also  the 
gifts  of  literary  genius  ;  but  these,  too,  he  chose  to  sacrifice 
to  his  task  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  beauty.  If  he 
attained  literary  fame,  it  was  because  his  genius  could  not 
be  suppressed,  because  his  preaching  necessarily  took  on 
those  great  qualities  of  substance  and  form  that  made  it 
literature.  For  all  this  Ruskin  was  rather  scoffed  at  by 
many  as  being  chimerical  and  quixotic.  Nothing  could 
better  illustrate  this  attitude  or  his  own  nobility  of  spirit 
than  a  passage  from  his  Fors  Clavigera,  an  autobiographic 
work  written  toward  the  latter  part  of  his  career : 

Because  I  have  passed  my  life  in  almsgiving,  not  in  fortune-hunting ; 
because  I  have  laboured  always  for  the  honour  of  others,  not  for  my  own, 
and  have  chosen  rather  to  make  men  look  at  Turner  and  Luini,  than  to 
form  or  exhibit  the  skill  of  my  own  hands ;  because  I  have  lowered  my 
rents,  and  assured  the  comfortable  lives  of  my  poor  tenants,  instead  of 
taking  from  them  all  I  could  force  for  the  roofs  they  needed  ;  because  I 
love  a  wood  walk  better  than  a  London  street ;  and  would  rather  watch 
a  sea  gull  fly  than  shoot  it,  and  rather  hear  a  thrush  sing  than  eat  it ; 
finally,  because  I  never  disobeyed  my  mother,  because  I  have  honoured 
all  women  with  solemn  worship,  and  havf  been  kind  even  to  the  un- 
thankful and  evil ;  therefore,  the  hacks  of  English  art  and  literature  wag 
their  heads  at  me. 


THE   AGE  OF   TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1832-1892)       353 

A  large  part  of  Ruskin's  work,  and  especially  of  his 
earlier  work,  was  in  the  form  of  art  criticism.  His  hrst 
notable  work  was  a  book  entitled  Modern  Paint-  work  as  an 
irs,  which  he  afterward  modified  and  expanded  ^*C"'''= 
through  a  series  of  years.  It  was  not,  as  its  title  might 
suggest,  a  history  of  modern  painting,  but  rather  a  glori- 
fication of  Turner  as  the  first  and  greatest  of  genuine 
landscape  painters.  The  book,  especially  in  its  enlarged 
form,  goes  much  further  ;  for  Ruskin  enters  into  elaborate 
discussion  of  art  theories,  of  the  characteristics  of  various 
schools,  of  the  true  and  the  false  in  art,  and  especially  of 
the  relation  of  art  to  nature.  This  interest  in  landscape 
and  the  recognition  of  its  place  in  art  associates  itself  with 
the  naturalistic  movement  in  poetry,  already  discussed. 
It  associates  itself,  however,  quite  as  much  with  modern 
scientific  study  of  nature  ;  for  Ruskin  was  concerned  even 
more  with  natural  truth  than  with  natural  beauty.  Other 
art  works  of  importance  are  his  Scvai  Lamps  of  Architec- 
ture and  his  Stones  of  Venice.  The  former  of  these  aptly 
illustrates  the  very  important  fact  that  Ruskin  believed  the 
inspiration  of  all  true  art  to  lie  in  the  moral  nature  of  the 
artist  and  of  his  age,  and  also  the  further  and  greater  fact 
that  all  Ruskin's  work  —  of  whatever  name  or  nature  —  is 
at  bottom  dealing  with  moral  questions.  The  "  Seven 
Lamps"  are  these:  Sacrifice,  Truth,  Power,  Beauty,  Life, 
Memory,  Obedience.  They  suggest  much  as  to  Ruskin's 
spirit  and  method.  The  Stones  of  Venice  is  a  work  of 
larger  scope,  but  it  is  informed  by  the  same  general  pur- 
pose. The  effect  of  the  three  works  taken  together  is  to 
show  Ruskin's  conception  tiiat  the  natural  world  is  the 
expression  of  the  divine  mind  and  filled  therefore  with 
spiritual  suggestion,  and  that  all  human  art  must  find  its 
highest  power  in  fidelity  to  nature  and  in  humble  obedi- 
ence t(j  moral  law.  Such  doctrine  as  this,  Ruskin  j)reached 
to  his  generation  ;    and   he   preached   it   with    a  pr()i)hetic 


354  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

fervor,  not  merely  because  he  wished  to  see  modern  life 
made  more  beautiful,  but  because  he  believed  that  beauty 
is  at  bottom  a  matter  of  righteousness. 

This  same  zeal  of  the  prophet  inspired  also  his  later 
writings.  About  i860,  when  Ruskin  was  just  past  forty 
Social  years  of  age,  he  practically  brought  to  an  end 

Questions        j^-^  (.^j-ggj-  g^g  g^j^  ^y.^  critic  by  the  completion  of 

his  Modern  Painters.  He  had  labored  nearly  twenty  years 
in  the  service  of  art,  and  was  still  to  be  her  enthusiast ; 
but  from  this  time  forward,  he  was  to  give  himself  more 
especially  to  a  higher  and  a  nobler  service.  For  nearly  forty 
years  more  his  life  was  to  continue,  closing  only  with  the 
last  year  but  one  of  the  century  ;  and  during  this  period,  his 
literary  work  was  to  be  that  of  a  great  ethical  teacher  and 
social  reformer.  He  dealt  with  all  sorts  of  subjects,  there 
was  in  his  writings  an  ever  recurring  allusion  to  art  and  to 
beauty ;  but  still  more,  there  was  the  prevalent  tone  of  a 
deep  moral  earnestness,  the  voice  of  a  man  whose  supreme 
desire  was  to  better  the  condition  of  his  fellows  and  to 
teach  them  that  righteousness  is  the  great  law  of  life.  It 
is  no  more  within  our  present  scope  to  consider  his  various 
efforts  outside  of  the  literary  field  for  the  betterment  of 
humanity  than  to  consider  the  specific  value  of  his  work 
as  a  technical  critic  of  art.  These  matters  are,  of  course, 
important  to  an  understanding  of  the  man  and  of  his  total 
achievement ;  but  our  present  purpose  is  more  exclusively 
literary,  and,  moreover,  his  work  in  literature  was  in 
essentially  the  same  spirit  as  his  work  in  other  fields. 

Most  of  the  works  of  this  later  period  bear  fanciful 
titles  which  only  remotely  suggest  or  symbolize  their  real 
Later  subjcct-matter.       [/nto   tliis   Last  and   Mtmera 

Wntings  Pnlveris  are  two  books  written  against  the 
narrowness  and  utilitarianism  of  the  current  politiciil 
economy.  Ruskin  would  have  men  consider  that  ther-^  are 
higher  values  than  those  which  mere  commercialism  takes 


THE  AGE   OF   TENNYSON  —  PROSE    (1832-1892)     355 

into  account.  The  Crown  of  Wild  Olives  consists  of  three 
lectures  on  "Work,  Traffic,  and  War."  Ethics  of  the  Dust 
is  a  series  of  ten  lectures  "  to  Little  Housewives  on  the 
Elements  of  Crystallisation."  Fors  Clavigera  is  a  series  of 
letters  "to  the  workmen  and  labourers  of  Great  Britain," 
and  contains  much  autobiographical  matter.  Pnctcrita  is 
also  autobiographical.  Probably  his  best-known  work  is 
Sesame  and  Lilies.  It  is  brief,  and  contains  some  of 
the  best  illustrations  of  his  style.  One  of  the  divisions, 
"  Kings'  Treasuries,"  contrasts  worldly  and  spiritual  wealth, 
and  treats  especially  of  the  spiritual  value  of  books.  An- 
other division,  "  Queens'  Gardens,"  deals  with  the  place, 
power,  and  education  of  women. 

Ruskin  was  a  man  who  possessed  a  fine  imagination  and 
an  almost  poetic  appreciation  of  beauty.  These  were  per- 
haps the  basis  of  his  purely  literary  genius,  al-  His  Genius 
though,  of  course,  his  noble  character  and  his  and  style 
high  ethical  spirit  largely  determined  the  quality  of  his 
literary  work.  It  is  with  his  style,  however,  that  the  lit- 
erary student  must  be  chiefly  impressed.  This  is  highly 
ornate  and  musical,  reminding  us  somewhat  of  De 
Quincey's  imaginative  and  impassioned  prose.  It  has  re- 
minders, too,  of  the  early  seventeenth-century  prose- 
writers  ;  but  more  than  to  any  other  scource,  it  owes  its 
distinguishing  qualities  to  the  English  Bible.  He  had  been 
deeply  familiar  with  the  Book  from  his  earliest  years,  and 
its  sublime  strains  had  become  a  part  of  his  intellectual  in- 
heritance. Magnificent  as  it  is,  this  style  can  not  justly  be 
charged  with  affectation  or  artificiality.  He  ri.ses  to  his 
heights  of  inspired  eloquence  or  imjiassioned  descrijition 
only  under  the  stress  of  his  own  genuine  emotion  and  kin- 
dling imagination  ;  and  the  style  is  the  natural  and  almost 
inevitable  e.xprcssion  of  the  man. 

As  we  come  to  the  consideration  of  Matthew  Arnold,  we 
arc  struck  by  the  fact  that,  of  the  four  great  prose-writers 


356  DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE   (i 832-1892) 

who  best  represent  the  present  period,  only  one  was  in 
full  harmony  with  its  spirit.  Macaulay  was  a  typical  man 
Matthew  °^  ^^^  time,  accepting  its  ideals  and  voicing  its 
Arnold  characteristic    ideas.       Carlyle    and  Ruskin,  as 

we  have  just  seen,  were  in  many  respects  in  an  attitude  of 
antagonism  to  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  felt  called  upon  to 
be  its  censors  and  critics,  although  they  too  were,  of  course, 
unconsciously  affected  by  its  power.  Matthew  Arnold 
was  also  a  censor,  a  critic,  and  in  some  sense  a  prophet,  of 
his  time.  Carlyle  preached  the  doctrine  of  duty  and  work 
and  obedience.  Ruskin  preached  the  gospel  of  beauty, 
in  form  and  in  spirit.  Arnold  was  preeminently  the  apostle 
of  culture.  "  Sweetness  and  light "  was  the  phrase  that 
he  borrowed  from  Swift  and  made  practically  his  own.  By 
it  he  referred  to  gentility  of  manners  and  to  intellectual 
refinement.  His  conception  of  culture  is  acquaintance 
with  "  the  best  that  has  been  known  and  thought  in  the 
world."  As  compared  with  the  "  Hebraism  "  of  Carlyle 
and  to  some  extent  of  Ruskin,  Arnold's  ideal  was  found 
rather  in  "  Hellenism."  It  was  the  ideal  of  ideas  as  com- 
pared with  the  ideal  of  conduct  and  duty.  Arnold  believed 
in  the  potency  of  ideas,  and  sought  to  aid  their  triumph 
over  the  narrow-minded,  complacent,  insular,  and  puritan- 
ical spirit  of  "Philistinism."  With  democracy,  he  had 
comparatively  little  to  do,  one  way  or  the  other.  His  own 
personal  temper  was  that  of  an  intellectual  aristocrat. 
With  science,  he  had  to  do  in  two  ways.  Directly,  it  helps 
to  account  for  the  keen,  analytical,  observant  temper  of 
his  mind.  Indirectly,  it  unsettled  his  religious  faith. 
With  the  sadness,  the  melancholy,  and  the  resignation 
which  this  induced,  we  shall  have  to  do  in  a  later  consid- 
eration of  his  poetry.  In  prose,  his  attitude  was  intellec- 
tual and  logical.  It  was  that  of  the  stoic,  who  will  put 
away  all  outworn  illusions,  will  face  the  situation  as  it  is, 
will  "  see  life  steadily  and  see  it  whole,"  and  will  take  ref- 


THE   AGE   OF  TENNYSON  — PROSE    (1832-1892)      357 

uge  in  ideas.  It  was  that  of  the  cultured  man  of  the  world 
—  urbane,  polished,  intellectual,  and  withal  "  a  friend  and 
helper  of  those  who  would  live  in  the  spirit." 

Arnold's  most  important  work  in  prose  was  that  of  a 
literary  critic.  Here  he  was  classical,  comparative,  sane, 
impartial,  and  acute.  He  brought  literature  to  the  test  of 
the  highest  ideals,  and  applied  those  ideals  with  rare  judg- 
ment and  insight,  if  with  something  more  than  a  tinge  of 
dogmatism.  From  1S57  to  1867,  he  was  Pro-  Arnold's 
fessor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  and  his  lectures  in  P'^oseWork 
that  position  exerted  a  wide  influence  upon  current  criti- 
cism and  ideas  of  literature.  The  most  important  fruits  of 
this  work  were  two  famous  productions.  On  Translating 
Homer  and  On  the  Study  of  Celtic  Literature.  In  1865  he 
published  Essays  in  Criticism,  and  twenty-three  years 
later,  in  the  year  of  his  death,  added  to  this  a  second  series 
under  the  same  title.  Other  volumes  largely  of  a  literary 
character  were  his  Mixed  Essays  ( 1 879),  /ris/i  Essays  ( 1 882), 
and  Discourses  in  America  (1885).  In  these  various  books, 
his  criticism  took  a  wide  range  and  displayed  a  taste  cath- 
olic as  well  as  just.  He  dealt  with  Greek,  French,  German, 
as  well  as  British,  authors,  and  brought  to  bear  a  compara- 
tive criticism  that  was  both  suggestive  and  stimulating. 
His  ideals  were  classical  rather  than  romantic,  his  method 
was  perhaps  rather  judicial  than  sympathetic  ;  but  every- 
where there  is  the  evidence  of  a  cultivated  intelligence  and 
of  keen  critical  insight.  Arnold's  true  province  as  a  prose- 
writer  was  that  of  literary  criticism  ;  but  he  did  not  always 
confine  himself  to  that  field.  Mis  Schools  and  Universities 
on  the  Continent  shows  his  interest  in  education  ;  and  as  an 
expert  in  educational  matters,  he  had  a  right  to  speak  with 
authority.  His  writings  are  permeated  with  thought  on 
social  and  ethical  questions,  and  it  is  in  this  sphere  that 
he  best  displays  his  relation  to  the  age.  He  even  made 
an  excursion  into  the  field  of  theological  controversy  in 


358 


DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 


V 


such  works  as  Culture  and  Anarchy  (1869),  St.  Paul  and 
Protestantism  (1870),  Literature  and  Dogma  {\%'j'>^\2cs\di  God 
ajid the  Bible  (1875).  Here,  perhaps,  his  venture  was  less 
fortunate ;  but  these  works  help  to  define  for  us  Arnold's 
character  and  intellectual  attitude,  to  make  clearer  the  in- 
fluence upon  him  of  the  great  movements  of  the  age,  and 
to  emphasize  his  peculiar  relation  to  his  own  time. 

Arnold's  genius  on  the  prose  side  was,  as  we  have  inti- 
mated, that  of  a  great  literary  critic  and  apostle  of  culture. 
He  was  also  one  of  the  great  poets  of  his  age,  and  will  call 
for  prominent  treatment  in  our  later  consideration  of  the 
poetry  of  the  time.  It  remains  here  to  observe 
that  he  was  also  a  great  master  of  prose  style. 
In  this  particular,  he  affords  a  remarkable  contrast  with 
both  Ruskin  and  Carlyle.  He  had  next  to  nothing  of 
their  vehemence,  their  richness,  their  music,  or  their  imag- 
inative splendor.  His  qualities  are  those  of  the  intellect 
rather  than  those  of  passion  or  imagination.  His  character- 
istic virtues  are  those  of  lucidity,  serenity,  simplicity,  purity, 
suavity,  terseness,  precision.  To  all  this  he  added  the 
Attic  salt  of  a  spicy  humor  and  of  a  delicate  irony.  He  is 
great  with  the  greatness  of  a  calm  and  pure  intelligence. 


Arnold's 
style 


The  Birthplace  of  Carlyle 

Ecclefechan 


m  ayi^^i^ylJ^Le^^^^LC-^i-Q^ 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE   AGE  OF  TENNYSON  — THE   NOVEL  (i 832-1 892) 

In  our  consideration  of  the  history  of  the  modern 
novel,  we  have  seen  that  it  began  in  reaUsm,  under 
the  classical  influences  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Later, 
under  the  influence  of  a  growing  romanticism,  the  novel 
also  became  romantic.  Scott  was  the  great  jyie  Modem 
romancer,  and  under  his  auspices  the  roman-  ^^"^^ 
tic  novel  came  to  the  place  of  first  importance  in  the 
field  of  prose  fiction.  Nevertheless,  such  work  as  that 
of  Jane  Austen  had  more  than  preserved  the  realistic 
tradition  ;  and  the  Victorian  Period  found  itself  in  pos- 
session of  a  broad  and  many-sided  inheritance  from  the 
past  development  of  the  novel.  On  the  whole,  the 
history  of  the  novel  during  this  period  is  a  history  of 
change  from  romanticism  back  to  realism,  with  certain 
marked  tendencies  toward  romantic  reaction.  This  seems 
altogether  natural.  The  spirit  of  individualism  that  pre- 
vailed in  the  age  of  Scott  tended  mainly  toward  the 
freedom  of  romance,  although,  as  we  have  seen,  there 
was  a  side  on  which  it  tended  toward  the  encourage- 
ment of  realism.  Individualism  under  the  more  con- 
crete form  of  democracy  was  likely  to  emphasize  the 
realistic  view  of  life  by  emphasizing  the  place  and  im- 
portance of  the  ordinary  man.  This  tendency  toward 
realism  was  reenforced  by  the  influence  of  science. 
Science  had  given  men  a  new  insight  into  psycholog- 
ical as  well  as  into  j)hysical  facts,  it  had  taught  methods 
of  intellectual  analysis  that  supplemented  the  imaginative 
insight  of  genius,  it  had  brought  new  conceptions  of  man's 

35y 


360  DEMOCRACY   AND  SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

relations  to  society  and  of  his  place  in  the  universe.  All 
this  gave  to  real  life  a  new  and  different  interest,  and  nov- 
elists were  encouraged  to  a  fresh  zeal  in  the  study  of  its 
actual  phenomena.  The  romantic  fiction  of  the  age  was 
largely  written  in  a  spirit  of  protest  or  of  escape.  Its 
writers  struggled  against  the  coldness  and  bareness  of 
the  scientific  aspect  of  things,  or  else  they  tried  to  escape 
from  it  into  the  world  of  dreams.  Some,  however,  took 
a  better  view.  They  found  new  marvels  in  the  revelations 
of  science  which  they  displayed  as  more  romantic  than  Gul- 
liver or  the  "Gothic"  romance  of  terror.  This  points  to 
still  another  fact ;  namely,  that  the  boundaries  between 
romance  and  realism  were  to  some  extent  obscured. 
Each  used  in  a  measure  the  materials  and  the  methods 
of  the  other,  and  thereby  enlarged  the  boundaries  of  its 
own  province.  The  amount  of  work  produced  in  the 
various  departments  of  the  novel  was  immense.  The 
necessary  limitations  of  a  brief  discussion  will  therefore 
compel  us  to  a  more  than  usually  rigid  selection  and  ex- 
clusion. Three  novelists  of  the  age  stand  out  from  the 
crowd  —  Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot.  They 
were  undoubtedly  the  greatest  in  genius.  They  were  also 
typical,  in  a  sense  that  makes  them  illustrative  of  the 
principal  facts  and  movements  of  their  age.  To  these 
three,  then,  we  may  devote  our  attention  with  the  assur- 
ance that  they  will  be  found  largely  representative  of  the 
history  of  fiction  in  their  time. 

Charles  Dickens  was  in  many  ways  in  harmony  with 
the  spirit  of  his  generation,  but  with  striking  personal 
peculiarities.      No    author    of    the    period    save     Robert 

Browning  better  illustrates  the  necessity  of 
Dickens:        taking    iuto    account  the   personal  equation   in 

literary  work.  At  the  basis  of  his  genius  lies 
his  broad  and  intimate  familiarity  with  men  and  things. 
He  was   by  nature    a  shrewd    and    accurate    observer  of 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON— THE  NOVEL  (1832-1892)  361 

life ;  and  his  own  practical  experiences  had  brought  him 
to  a  close  knowledge  of  its  realities  and  even  of  its 
hardships.  Born  in  Portsmouth  in  18 12,  he  was  early 
removed  to  London  with  his  family,  and  learned  there 
to  know  the  privations  and  sordid  cares  of  humble  life 
in  the  great  city.  At  ten  years  of  age,  he  was  working 
in  a  blacking  factory,  while  his  father  was  confined  for 
debt  in  the  Marshalsea  Prison,  Mis  literary  apprentice- 
ship was  served  as  a  newspaper  reporter  and  later  as 
a  magazine  and  newspaper  editor.  E.xpcrience  as  an 
amateur  actor  also  contributed  to  the  training  which  was 
to  take  the  place  of  a  university  education  in  preparing 
him  for  his  life  work.  Literary  work  began  early  and 
was  almost  immediately  successful.  Few  writers  have 
been  so  popular  as  Dickens  or  have  lived  to  reap  such 
abundant  literary  honors.  His  life  was  prematurely  short- 
ened in  1870,  by  the  excitement  and  the  physical  strain 
of  his  public  readings  before  vast  and  enthusiastic  audi- 
ences in  England  and  America. 

Dickens  had  certain  points  of  contact  with  the  realistic 
school,  although  he  is  by  no  means  to  be  called  a  realist. 
His  personal  experiences  gave  him  opportunity 
for  wide  and  varied  knowledge  of  English  life. 
Within  this  field,  he  best  knew  the  middle  and  lower 
classes,  and  nothing  was  more  familiar  to  him  than  the 
life  of  London  streets  and  homes.  One  of  the  most  in- 
teresting minor  features  of  his  novels  lies  in  his  particular 
acquaintance  with  certain  favorite  localities,  in  and  out  of 
London.  Readers  of  Dickens  will  recall  many  illustra- 
tions of  this  from  works  like  Our  Mutual  Friend,  Bleak 
House,  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  David  Copperfield. 
The  last  of  these  is  in  effect  an  idealization  of  actual 
experiences  from  his  own  life.  His  subjects  are  drawn  al- 
most entirely  from  the  life  of  the  English  common  people. 
Even  in  a  novel  like  A  Tale  of  Tiuo  Cities,\x\  which  he  deals 


362  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE  (1832-1892) 

with  events  of  the  French  Revokition,  a  very  large  propor- 
tion of  the  book  is  taken  up  with  description  of  EngUsh 
hfe  and  especially  the  life  of  London. 

If  Dickens  is  a  realist  in  knowledge  of  actual  life  and  in 

choice   of    subjects,   he   is  anything   but  a  realist  in  his 

methods   of   treatment.      He    handles    his   real 

His  Methods  •  ,       , 

subject-matter  with  the  greatest  freedom.  We 
can  hardly  call  him  a  romantic  novelist,  for  his  field  lies 
rather  between  the  territories  of  realism  and  romance. 
For  lack  of  a  better  term,  he  might  be  designated  an  ideal- 
ist in  fiction.  This  means  to  imply  that  his  novels,  while 
keeping  within  the  limits  of  ordinary  life  for  their  materi- 
als, are  an  extreme  idealization  of  the  actual  and  the 
familiar.  He  takes  liberties  with  the  literal  facts  of  life  in 
the  portrayal  of  character  and  perhaps  still  more  in  the 
construction  of  plot.  What  he  seeks  is  not  primarily  a 
faithful  picture  of  Hfe  as  it  is.  He  displays  that  Hfe 
rather  in  the  light  which  his  singular  fancy  has  shed 
around  it.  Often  he  is  concerned  with  the  attack  or  de- 
fence of  some  moral  principle,  and  portrays  life  in  a  way 
to  suit  his  immediate  purpose.  Illustrations  of  this  are  to 
be  found  in  such  books  as  Donibey  and  Son,  Little  Dorrit, 
and  Nicholas  Nickleby.  In  all  his  works,  we  may  see  his 
marked  disposition  toward  partisanship  for  or  against  his 
various  characters.  He  applauds  and  rewards  the  good, 
he  condemns  and  arbitrarily  punishes  the  bad.  In  a  word, 
there  is  lack  of  that  artistic  impartiality  which  character- 
izes a  great  master  like  Shakespeare.  What  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  see  is  that  Dickens  supplies  this  lack  by  other 
remarkable  powers  and  that  he  is  great  in  spite  of  all  faults 
and  limitations. 

We  must  probably  seek  the  deepest  secret  of  Dickens's 
„.  „  genius  in  his  emotional  nature.     He  had  intense 

His  Emo-  » 

tionai  Power  power  of  feeling,  and  his  feeHng  was  easily 
aroused.     His  emotions  were  not  inspired  primarily  by  litera- 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  — THE   NOVEL  (i 832-1 892)      363 

ture,  by  the  ideals  of  his  art,  or  even  by  the  strong  impulse 
to  personal  expression.  Their  inspiration  was  rather  in 
the  human  spectacle  which  he  saw  around  him.  He  was 
profoundly  interested  in  the  joys  and  sorrows  and  manifold 
experiences  of  men  and  women,  and  he  was  profoundly 
moved  by  them.  His  deep  and  strong  sympathies  were 
always  on  the  side  of  truth,  morality,  and  religion.  The 
two  most  characteristic  emotions  of  his  nature  were  pathos 
and  humor.  These  seemingly  opposite  feelings  have  not 
seldom  been  found  in  harmony  with  each  other  in  great 
men  of  genius ;  and  in  Dickens,  they  met  in  a  rare  and 
happy  union. 

On  the  one  side,  we  feel  the  deep  tenderness  of  his 
nature,  and  are  witness  of  his  power  over  the  softer  emo- 
tions of  the  human  heart.  His  pathos  permeates 
all  his  work.  Every  reader  of  Dickens  will  re- 
call such  examples  as  the  death  of  Little  Nell,  of  Little  Jo, 
and  of  Paul  Dombey  ;  and  these  are  only  extreme  illustra- 
tions of  what  is  to  be  found  in  greater  or  less  degree  in 
all  his  novels.  He  has  been  charged  with  sentimentalism, 
with  exaggeration,  with  "  pumping  for  tears,"  and  there  is 
something  of  justice  in  the  charge ;  but  nevertheless,  his 
pathos  is  an  element  of  undoubted  power  in  his  work  and 
helps  in  large  measure  to  account  for  its  popularity. 

Over  against  his  pathos  is  his  humor  —  not  delicate, 
subtle,  and  half  melancholy,  as  we  might  expect,  but 
rather  of  the  broad  and  boisterous  kind.     Hearty 

,  ,  ,        r    1      ■  •  T       1  His  Humor 

laughter,  playful  irony,  potent  ridicule,  a  sin- 
gular love  of  the  grotesque  — these  are  some  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  Dickens's  humor.  We  may  declare  without 
qualification  that  he  is  one  of  the  world's  great  humorists. 
Whatever  other  limitations  upon  his  art  may  be  allowed, 
there  surely  can  not  be  much  room  for  cavil  here. 

This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  his  literary  greatness,  while 
at  the  same  time  it  accounts  for  much  that  is  strange,  dis 


364  DEMOCRACY  AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

torted,  and  exaggerated  in  his  work  as  a  novelist.  The 
Effect  on  relation  of  Dickens  to  the  art  of  novel-writing 
^^^^  is  a  somewhat  peculiar  one.     He  is  a  caricaturist 

of  life  and  character  rather  than  a  painter  of  portraits. 
Yet  let  us  recognize  that  the  caricaturist  has  also  a  genu- 
ine and  deep,  as  well  as  a  keen,  insight  into  life,  and  that 
he  is  in  his  way  just  as  truly  a  revealer  of  its  meanings. 
Dickens  is  not  really  to  be  understood  by  those  who  fail  to 
comprehend  his  singular  union  of  humor  and  pathos  and 
the  effect  of  this  on  his  work.  They  judge  him  by  the 
standards  of  other  men  and  expect  from  him  similar  re- 
sults. He  must  be  judged  by  his  own  standard,  and  his 
results  must  be  appreciated  as  the  outcome  of  his  own 
very  peculiar  genius. 

Next  to  the  emotional  power  of  Dickens,  we  must  note 
the  power  of  his  imagination.  Great  emotional  power 
Hisimag-  tcnds  to  quicken  the  imagination;  and  as  we 
ination  might  cxpcct,  the  imaginative  activity  of  Dick- 

ens is  easily  aroused.  And  when  it  is  aroused,  how  aston- 
ishing are  its  creations.  We  are  struck  by  its  variety  and 
its  fertility ;  its  resources  seem  inexhaustible  and  its  pos- 
sible shapes  almost  infinite.  We  are  impressed  by  its 
clearness  and  its  minuteness ;  there  seems  to  be  a  perfect 
conception  of  objects  even  to  their  slightest  details.  There 
is  comparatively  little  penetration  into  essential  realities ; 
but  there  is  a  wonderful  power  of  effective  combination. 
Dickens  is  less  a  revealer  of  life's  mystery  than  a  portrayer 
of  its  visible  fact.  The  remarkable  peculiarities  of  his 
pictures  are  largely  accounted  for  by  the  marvelous  in- 
tensity and  vividness  of  his  imagination.  He  sees  the 
ideal  almost  as  vividly  as  the  actual.  Objects  stand  forth 
with  a  distinctness  comparable  to  that  of  a  landscape  re- 
vealed in  a  sudden  glare  of  lightning.  Inanimate  things 
even  seem  to  be  endowed  with  life  and  sensibility.  This 
activity  of  his  imagination  is  undoubtedly  largely  affected 


THE  AGE  OF  TExNNYSOX  — THE    NOVEL  (1832-1892)       365 

by  his  pathos  and  his  humor.  These  help  to  account  for 
its  distortions,  its  exaggerations,  its  whimsicaHtv,  and  its 
grotesquencss ;  but  apart  from  other  influences,  much  is 
due  to  its  own  sportive  and  fantastic  nature. 

Dickens's  technical  art  as  a  novelist  is  not  quite  equal 
to  the  real  force  of  his  genius.  On  the  side  of  his  style, 
he  can  not  be  called  a  great  master.  This  may  His  Art  as  a 
in  part  be  accounted  for  on  general  grounds.  NoveUst 
Masters  of  style  among  the  great  novelists  are  the  excep- 
tion rather  than  the  rule  ;  and  the  explanation  probably  is 
that  in  most  cases  the  writer's  energy  and  attention  are  en- 
gaged with  the  processes  of  invention  to  the  comparative 
neglect  of  the  matter  of  expression.  Dickens  is  inclined 
to  a  decided  carelessness  in  style,  and  at  times  even  to 
coarseness.  While  his  style  is  undoubtedly  effective  foi 
its  purpose,  it  lacks  those  minute  perfections  or  those 
magic  splendors  which  characterize  the  very  greatest  work 
in  prose  expression.  When  we  come  to  the  more  impor- 
tant matters  of  his  art,  Dickens's  real  mastery  begins  to 
appear.  He  is  a  great  story-teller.  His  plots  are  large, 
varied,  and  complicated  ;  but  he  displays  great  skill  in  the 
handling  of  the  broad  and  intricate  construction.  What  is 
still  more  api)arent,  he  is  a  wonderful  inventor  of  incident, 
and  is  able  by  this  means  alone  to  hold  the  unflagging 
interest  of  the  reader.  There  is  some  tendency  to  loose- 
ness and  digression  in  his  stories  ;  but  this  is  hardly  more 
than  might  be  expected,  and  is  lost  sight  of  in  the  interest 
of  the  whole  and  in  the  fascination  of  the  details.  An 
incalculable  aid  to  his  narrative  is  the  clearness  and  vivid- 
ness of  his  description.  It  is  often  highly  idealized,  but  it 
never  fails  of  distinctness  or  of  life.  It  is  j)robably  in  the 
creation  of  character  that  his  greatest  genius  is  dis|)layed. 
His  characters  arc  in  a  sense  representative  of  the  author's 
theories  and  purposes  rather  than  of  innnan  life.  It  may 
also  be  said  that  they   are   typical   of    \irtucs  and   vices 


366  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE  (1832-1892) 

rather  than  of  men  and  women.  It  may  be  still  further 
added  that  they  are  frequently  exaggerated  and  fanciful. 
All  this  is  true,  but  it  does  not  serve  to  shake  a  single  leaf 
from  the  laurel  of  his  fame.  In  spite  of  all  the  limitations 
that  have  been  justly  urged,  but  urged  perhaps  too  much, 
Dickens  is  still  to  be  regarded  as  a  great  creator  of  charac- 
ter. The  imagination  is  the  court  of  last  resort  for  judging 
the  works  of  the  imagination  —  not  any  supposed  standard 
of  observation  or  experience ;  and  to  the  imagination,  the 
characters  of  Dickens  declare  themselves  aUve  — thoroughly 
English,  thoroughly  human,  thoroughly  lifelike,  in  spite 
of  all  limitation.  They  are  alive  with  the  superabundant 
vitality  of  their  creator.  It  is  not  the  least  of  his  peculiari- 
ties that  Dickens  identifies  himself  with  his  work,  becoming 
as  it  were  the  companion  of  his  characters  as  well  as  their 
maker.  The  effect  of  this  on  his  work  is  not  altogether 
happy,  any  more  than  is  the  effect  of  his  constant  intro- 
duction of  a  practical  purpose  into  his  stories  of  life ;  but 
none  of  these  things  vitally  affect  the  real  power  and 
impressiveness  of  his  novels. 

When  all  is  said,  it  remains  true  that  Dickens  is  one  of 
the  most  popular  and  influential  of  EngHsh  novehsts.  He 
General  ^^^  been   scriously  criticised,   and  he  is  fairly 

Estimate  opcu  to  scrious  criticism,  on  more  than  merely 
technical  grounds.  His  exaggeration,  his  sensationalism, 
his  sentimentality,  his  coarseness,  his  didacticism,  are  all 
fair  objects  of  attack.  If  he  is  great  in  spite  of  these 
faults,  it  is  because  he  opposes  to  them  much  greater  vir- 
tues. He  teaches  the  essential  truth  of  life,  even  if  he 
does  distort  the  outward  fact.  He  is  not  only  a  great 
preacher  and  moralist,  but  he  is  a  truly  great  artist  as  well. 
Notwithstanding  his  seeming  affectations,  he  is  at  bottom 
sincere,  simple,  tender,  genial,  manly,  and  true.  His  great- 
ness is  due  to  a  high  development  of  certain  remarkable 
powers.     His  limitations  are  due  to  the  comparative  failure 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON— THE  NOVEL  (1832-1892)  367 

of  certain  other  powers  and  to  a  lack  of  proportion  and 
harmony  between  his  various  artistic  qualities.  His  abid- 
ing reputation  will  be  that  of  a  great  humorist,  a  great 
novelist,  and  a  great  master  of  the  human  heart. 

There  are  some  points  of  resemblance  between  Dickens 
and  Thackeray,  but  in  the  main  their  paths  diverge.  The 
difference  appears  first  of  all  in  their  lives.  Thackeray 
was  born  in  Calcutta  in  181 1,  but  was  early  sent  to  Eng- 
land for  education  at  the  famous  Charterhouse  School  in 
London.     From  here  he  went  to  Trinity  College, 

/  t.    '    William 

Cambridge,  but  did  not  remain  long  at  the  Uni-  Makepeace 
versity.  After  spending  some  time  in  travel 
and  in  study  of  art  on  the  continent,  he  returned  to  London 
and  began  his  literary  career.  His  fame  grew  slowly  but 
surely  until  his  death  in  1863.  The  insanity  of  his  wife 
brought  an  element  of  deep  pathos  into  his  life,  but  his 
last  days  were  comparatively  happy  and  serene.  Thack- 
eray may  be  called  a  novelist  of  life  and  manners.  This 
implies  that  he  was  the  painter  of  an  age  and  of  a  particu- 
lar state  of  society  rather  than  of  essential  humanity.  Such 
an  implication  would  be  in  the  main  just,  although  we  must 
guard  ourselves  from  the  error  of  supposing  that  he  was 
entirely  limited  to  a  narrow  field  or  that  his  work  has  no 
large  human  significance.  In  many  ways  his  portrayals 
are  true,  and  will  always  be  true,  to  the  characteristics  of 
general  humanity.  It  may  be  said  that  he  was  a  student 
of  life  rather  than  of  the  individual  soul. 

The  actual  field  of  life  which  he  chose  for  that  study 
was  a  comparatively  limited  one.  It  was  the  life  of  Eng- 
lish high  society,  a  life  of  artificial  and  conven-  character  of 
tional  manners.  It  was  a  less  fruitful  field  than  h'sWork 
that  of  Dickens,  who  had  more  opportunity  to  observe 
the  natural  workings  of  the  human  heart.  Neverthe- 
less, if  one  could  see  beneath  the  surface,  humanity  was 
there,  however  falsified  and  concealed.     Within  his  limits, 


368  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

Thackeray  finds  a  considerable  variety  of  character,  al- 
though the  natural  tendency  of  an  artificial  society  is  to 
restrict  individuality  and  to  reduce  all  characters  to  a  few 
well-known  types.  To  a  certain  extent  this  tendency  is 
observable  in  Thackeray's  portrayal.  Indeed,  he  occa- 
sionally has  almost  repetitions  of  character.  An  interest- 
ing case  is  that  of  William  Dobbin,  in  Vanity  Fair,  who 
seems  like  a  preliminary  study  for  Thackeray's  superb 
masterpiece  of  character  portrayal,  old  Colonel  Newcome, 
of  The  Newcomes.  Thackeray  shows  in  all  his  novels  a 
real  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  is  a  past  master 
in  his  acquaintance  with  the  social  conditions  that  he  por- 
trays. His  method  of  treatment  is  decidedly  realistic.  He 
has  no  disposition  to  idealize  life  or  to  seize  only  on  its 
romantic  elements.  On  the  contrary,  his  chief  impulse  is 
toward  a  graphic  portrayal  of  actual  facts  and  conditions. 
This  portrayal  is  not  to  be  called  either  superficial  or  pro- 
found. Thackeray  certainly  does  go  beneath  the  mere 
surface  of  life  ;  but  just  as  certainly  he  does  not  fathom 
the  depths.  In  the  construction  of  his  novels,  life  and 
character  are  much  more  important  than  plot.  He  intro- 
duces a  moral  purpose,  but  in  his  own  way.  It  is  not  as 
with  Dickens  the  purpose  to  reform  institutions  or  to  advo- 
cate a  particular  cause ;  it  is  rather  to  attack  human  weak- 
ness and  folly  and  to  rebuke  a  system  of  life. 

On  the  surface,  Thackeray  was  a  man  of  the  world, 
acquainted  with  all  its  ways.  He  thoroughly  understood 
Character  of  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^*^  meanncss  and  hollowness  of  polite 
the  Man  socicty;  and  his  knowledge  results  in  disillusion, 
both  for  himself  and  for  his  reader.  We  are  led  behind 
the  scenes,  and  shown  the  tinsel  and  the  sham  which 
make  up  the  fine-appearing  spectacle.  The  result  is  that 
Thackeray  is  apparently  a  cynic  and  a  pessimist.  Such  a 
conclusion,  however,  would  not  be  justified  by  a  deeper 
knowledge  of  the  facts.     He  was,  indeed,  a  spirit  quick  to 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNVSOX— THE  NOVEL  (1832-189::)  ^6^ 

scorn  and  despise,  a  good  hater  of  all  sham  and  pretence, 
of  all  vileness  and  meanness.  Ever  ready  he  was  with 
his  mocking  laughter  and  his  potent  ridicule.  On  any 
due  occasion,  he  was  capable  of  the  most  scathing  irony 
and  of  the  most  bitter  sarcasm.  Vet,  rightly  understood, 
this  was  only  the  surface  of  the  man.  l^eneath  that  sur- 
face was  a  most  genuine  and  manly  and  noble  spirit. 
Thackeray  was  a  believer  in  the  essential  goodness  of 
humanity,  although  he  understood  so  much  of  its  little- 
ness and  its  badness.  He  was  a  man  of  kindly  and  ge- 
nial nature,  in  spite  of  his  keen  and  bitter  words.  Beneath 
his  satirical  manner,  he  hid  a  tender  and  compassionate 
heart.  Moreover,  Thackeray  was  a  man  of  faith  and 
hope.  If  he  saw  things  as  they  were,  with  the  scientific 
clearness  and  frankness  of  his  age,  if  he  put  away  all  illu- 
sion, he  nevertheless  found  it  possible  to  discover  the 
spiritual  element  in  life  and  to  have  faith  in  what  men 
might  be  and  in  what  already  they  largely  were.  All  his 
scorn  and  bitterness  grew,  not  out  of  a  petty  or  churlish 
spirit,  but  out  of  the  real  nobility  of  his  nature.  It  grew 
out  of  his  intense  indignation  against  the  vile  and  the 
false,  and  his  no  less  intense  love  for  the  true  and  the 
pure.  His  work  is  marked  by  a  customary  restraint  of 
emotion,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  rather  excessive  dis- 
play of  feeling  in  the  work  of  Dickens.  Nevertheless, 
Thackeray  was  a  man  of  strong  and  deep  feeling.  Be- 
yond the  evidence  of  his  work  there  is  the  evidence  of 
the  patience  and  loving-kindness  of  his  life. 

Thackeray's  genius  as  a  literary  artist  was  very  unlike 
that  of  Dickens,  but  the  two  men  were  at  least  alike  in 
being  keen  observers  of  life.  This,  of  course.  Genius a»«n 
was  of  especial  importance  to  a  realistic  novel-  ^^'** 
ist  like  Thackeray.  His  knowledge  of  life  was  accurate, 
and  his  purpose  was  to  be  equally  accurate  in  tlie  j)or- 
trayal.     I''or  such  a  purpose,  observation  is  much,  insight 


370  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE  (1832-1892) 

is  more.  If  Thackeray's  insight  was  not  profound,  it  was 
at  least  genuine  and  just,  and  fitted  him  for  the  portrayal 
of  life  in  more  than  a  merely  superficial  sense.  Such 
knowledge  of  life  as  came  to  him  in  these  ways,  he  had 
the  gift  to  use  as  a  fine  artist  in  the  realm  of  fiction.  Per- 
haps his  most  remarkable  power  is  his  ability  in  character- 
ization. He  is  subtle  in  his  analysis  of  human  feeling  and 
motive.  He  is  for  the  most  part  truly  original  in  his  con- 
ceptions. His  characters  are  his  own,  and  yet  are  created 
with  fidelity  to  the  great  copy  which  he  found  in  real  life. 
The  characters  thus  analyzed  and  conceived,  he  is  able  to 
realize  in  hving  beings  that  appeal  to  the  imagination. 
Beyond  the  ability  to  portray  individual  characters  is  the 
ability  to  portray  a  large  and  faithful  picture  of  life- 
Here,  also,  Thackeray's  fine  imagination  is  equal  to  its 
task.  It  is  clear,  penetrating,  vivid,  fertile,  genuinely 
creative.  Less  vigorous  than  that  of  Dickens,  it  is  more 
restrained  and  better  balanced.  Its  results  are  symmet- 
rical, orderly,  precise.  The  pictures  which  his  imagina- 
tion creates  are  given  depth  and  solidity  by  the  fact  that 
Thackeray  was  a  really  serious  thinker.  His  reflections 
on  human  life  have  a  value  largely  independent  of  the 
particular  forms  through  which  they  are  presented.  On 
this  side  of  his  work,  he  appeals  more  to  mature  minds. 
Dickens  is  the  novelist  of  the  young,  the  vigorous,  the 
hopeful,  the  sanguine.  Thackeray  is  rather  the  novelist 
of  the  experienced,  the  thoughtful,  and  the  reflective,  and 
to  appreciate  him  fully  requires  a  certain  degree  of  men- 
tal growth.  Thackeray's  emotional  power  is  quiet,  regu- 
lated, restrained,  but  none  the  less  strong.  Pathos  in  his 
work  is  comparatively  rare,  but  he  shows  himself  capable 
on  occasion  of  touching  the  heart's  tenderer  emotions. 
There  is  hardly  a  finer  illustration  of  quiet  and  restrained 
pathos  in  all  English  fiction  than  his  brief  account  of  the 
death  of  old  Colonel  Newcome.     As  a  humorist,  his  power 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON —  THE  NOVEL  (1832-1892)   371 

is  freely  displayed.  He  ranges  from  broad  and  almost 
farcical  humor  to  the  keenest  sarcasm  and  the  most  deli- 
cate irony.  As  a  rule,  however,  his  humor  is  not  the 
hearty  and  boisterous  humor  of  Dickens,  but  is  more 
subtle,  keen,  refined,  bitter,  an  exceedingly  effective 
weapon  of  satire  and  ridicule.  It  can  hardly  be  called  al- 
together amiable.  Thackeray  laughs  at  the  world  rather 
than  with  it,  and  uses  his  powers  of  wit  not  so  much  to 
delight  as  to  sting.  Another  characteristic  emotion  is  his 
moral  indignation.  Often  veiled,  seldom  expressed  in  di- 
rect and  formal  terms,  it  is  none  the  less  powerfully  felt 
in  his  portrayal  of  life  and  in  his  characteristic  comment 
upon  the  doings  of  men  and  women.  Beneath  this  indig- 
nation, giving  it  fineness  as  well  as  strength,  is  an  intense 
love  of  moral  beauty.  If  Thackeray  portrays  for  the  most 
part  those  phases  of  life  that  deserve  his  satire,  if  he  rep- 
resents the  wickedness  and  the  weakness  of  the  world,  he 
has  nevertheless  a  noble  appreciation  of  all  that  is  pure 
and  sweet  and  genuine  in  character.  His  pictures  of  life 
exalt  beauty  by  contrast  and  suggestion  rather  than  by 
direct  presentation  ;  but  he  makes  us  feel  that  in  spite  of 
all  the  evil  and  the  littleness  of  the  world  there  is  yet 
much  in  it  of  the  savor  of  true  goodness.  Thackeray  is 
not  a  great  narrator.  His  plots  are  comparatively  unin- 
teresting, and  he  is  largely  lacking  in  the  skill  of  the 
great  literary  architect.  What  he  does  possess  is  the 
power  to  present  such  a  graphic  and  fascinating  picture 
of  men  and  women  that  the  interest  of  the  mere  story  is 
hardly  missed.  To  this  end  contributes  not  a  little  his 
skill  in  graphic  and  suggestive  description.  Still  further, 
he  is  one  of  the  most  finished  masters  of  prose  style 
among  English  novelists.  His  qualities  are  those  of 
clearness,  finish,  ease,  incisiveness,  and  vivacity. 

The  interest  of  Thackeray's  novels,  as  we  have  imi)lictl, 
is  primarily  an  interest  in  men  and  women  vividly  jiortraycd. 


372  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

His  characters  are  well  defined,  individual,  and  lifelike. 
Work  as  a  He  portrays  male  characters  better  than  fe- 
male, and  mature  persons  better  than  children. 
The  characters  in  any  one  of  his  novels  are  comparatively 
few  in  number,  whereas  Dickens  crowds  his  stories  with 
a  great  number  of  personages.  These  characters  are  so 
related  to  each  other  as  to  form  a  natural,  consistent,  and 
faithful  picture  of  life,  and  to  suggest  the  movements  of 
the  larger  world  outside  their  narrow  circle.  The  narrative 
is  subordinate  in  interest,  but  the  thread  of  the  story  is  suffi- 
cient to  give  unity  to  the  whole.  It  is  easy  and  graceful, 
but  comparatively  lacking  in  movement,  in  complication, 
in  climax,  and  in  dramatic  effect.  His  descriptions,  always 
admirable,  are  mostly  of  persons,  situations,  and  conditions. 
There  is  little  description  of  nature,  and  it  is  characteristic 
of  him  that  he  deliberately  avoids,  in  Vanity  Fair,  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  to  describe  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
The  proper  business  of  conducting  the  story  and  portraying 
the  characters  is  almost  always  accompanied  in  his  novels 
with  a  running  comment  of  satire  on  human  follies  and  of 
moral  reflections  on  life.  These  are  exceedingly  interest- 
ing for  their  own  sake,  independently  of  the  story.  To 
use  his  own  figure,  they  are  like  the  comments  of  the 
showman  displaying  his  puppets.  The  effect  of  this  on 
his  art  as  a  novelist  is  not  altogether  happy.  Satire  in  art, 
if  carried  too  far,  tends  to  force  the  author  upon  us  and 
tends  also  both  to  distract  our  attention  from  the  characters 
and  to  distort  them  in  the  interests  of  the  satirical  purpose. 
Moralizing  in  art  interrupts  the  story  for  the  sake  of  the 
sermon  and  mars  the  proper  unity,  proportion,  and  con- 
tinuity. If  the  moral  purpose  be  less  broad  and  human 
than  Thackeray's,  it  tends  to  destroy  the  work  of  art 
altogether.  Taken  as  they  are,  his  novels  are  full  of 
fascination  to  the  mature  mind.  The  reader  may  well 
forget    all    cavil    in    genuine   gratitude   and   admiration. 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  THE  NOVEL  (1S32-1S92)   373 

What  the  novel  could  be,  however,  in  such  hands  and 
without  these  objectionable  features,  Thackeray  himself  has 
shown  us.  In  Henry  Esmond,  he  has  presented  one  of  the 
most  perfect  historical  pictures  ever  drawn  —  a  transcript 
from  the  life  of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  narrator  of  the  story  is  Henry  Esmond  himself,  and 
all  satirical  and  moralizing  comment  on  the  part  of  the 
author  is  necessarily  eliminated.  As  a  result,  we  have  an 
example  of  the  art  of  prose  fiction  pure  and  simple.  All 
Thackeray's  genius  is  there  without  its  hindrances.  It  is 
his  masterpiece,  and  in  it  his  true  greatness  as  a  novelist  is 
fully  revealed. 

George  Eliot  was  the  pen  name  of  Mary  Ann  Evans, 
hardly  less  than  the  greatest  woman  of  genius  in  English 
literature.  Her  career  is  an  illustration  of  the 
production  of  great  art  out  of  comparatively  ^°^^^ 
narrow  conditions  and  out  of  comparatively  humble  ma- 
terials. Like  Jane  Austen,  she  was  born  in  a  rural  com- 
munity and  matured  her  genius  within  a  narrow  life  circle. 
Her  native  county  was  Warwickshire — the  county  of 
Shakespeare  —  but  like  Shakespeare,  she  transcends  in 
spirit  the  bounds  of  Warwickshire  and  of  England.  For 
over  thirty  years,  she  lived  in  this  quiet  midland  country, 
on  the  farm  or  in  the  quaint  provincial  town  of  Coventry. 
Her  earliest  acquaintance  was  with  a  life  natural  and 
unsophisticated  —  a  life  where  humanity  was  visible  in  its 
simplest  and  most  typical  forms.  By  insight  into  such 
life,  she  learned  to  know  what  life  was  in  its  depths  quite 
as  well  as  Dickens  learned  to  know  it  by  his  wide  acquaint- 
ance with  English  types  of  character  or  as  Thackeray 
learned  to  know  it  by  his  study  of  London  society.  She 
was  destined,  hcjwever,  to  a  far  wider  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  to  a  far  larger  intellectual  development  than 
these  early  years  seemed  to  promise.  In  1S51  she  settled 
in  London  as  assistant  editor  of  the   IWstniinsfrr  Review, 


374  DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

and  was  there  brought  into  association  with  the  most 
prominent  Uberal  thinkers  of  the  day.  Her  union  with 
George  Henry  Lewes,  which  followed  soon  after,  was 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  her  literary  career ;  for  under 
his  influence  she  came  to  a  realization  of  her  genius  as  a 
novelist.  After  his  death,  in  1878,  she  was  married  to 
Mr.  Cross,  a  London  banker.  She  died  in  1880,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-one.  In  spite  of  her  broad  experience  of  life 
and  of  her  large  intellectual  culture,  her  temper  remained 
thoroughly  English.  Through  her  provincial  origin  and 
sympathies,  she  had  the  roots  of  her  genius  deep  in  the 
soil  of  English  life.  Hers  was  the  largest  life  from 
the  narrowest  circumstances,  the  broadest  art  through 
the  most  limited  subject. 

At  the  basis  of  George  Eliot's  character  was  her  intense 
emotional  nature.  She  had  a  heart  full  of  tenderness  and 
The  Woman  P^^Y"  Her  lovcs  and  friendships  make  up  much 
and  the  Artist  gf  the  story  of  her  life.  Her  experiences  were 
such  as  to  subject  her  emotional  temper  to  an  unusual 
development.  The  sorrows  of  her  Hfe,  her  deep  heart 
experiences,  her  physical  sufferings,  her  religious  struggles, 
all  tended  to  develop  a  profoundly  sad  yet  serene  nature. 
The  wide  range  of  her  emotional  powers  and  experiences 
had  an  important  influence  upon  her  work ;  for  she 
learned  how  to  portray  in  others  the  feeling  that  she  had 
known  herself.  Hardly  less  important  was  her  large  in- 
tellectuality and  her  broad  culture.  Her  mind  seems  in 
many  ways  masculine  rather  than  feminine ;  and  all  her 
work  is  evidence  of  her  force  and  breadth,  as  well  as  of 
her  subtlety,  of  intellect.  Her  life  was  largely  spent  in 
extensive  reading  and  study  ;  and  as  a  result,  she  had  a 
wide  knowledge  of  literature,  history,  and  art.  The  condi- 
tions of  the  age  brought  this  large  heart  and  this  large 
mind  into  conflict  with  one  another.  She  was  a  woman  of 
deep  religious  instinct,  and  her  early  religious  experiences 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON —THE  NOVEL  (1832-1S92)   375 

were  largely  determined  by  her  emotional  nature.  As  she 
grew  in  mental  power  and  in  philosophical  and  scientific 
knowledge,  her  intellectuality  radically  affected  her  relig- 
ious views.  She  passed  through  a  time  of  doubt  and 
struggle,  but  did  not  gain  the  spiritual  victory  of  Carlyle. 
Her  later  attitude  toward  religion  was  agnostic.  Religious 
by  nature,  she  yet  found  it  impossible  to  believe,  and 
accepted  the  conditions  of  the  age  and  of  her  own  mind 
with  a  sad  sincerity.  Her  reverence  of  spirit  remained  the 
same.  Her  conscientiousness  in  life  and  in  work  are  an 
inspiring  example.  Above  all,  the  altruism  which  she 
believed  in  and  preached  reveals  the  tenderness,  the 
unselfishness,  the  real  devotion  of  her  nature.  Her  great- 
ness of  spirit  as  well  as  her  limitations  of  faith  may  be 
clearly  seen  in  her  poem  beginning, 

O  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible 

Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 

In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence :  live 

In  pulses  stirred  to  generosity. 

In  deeds  of  daring  rectitude,  in  scorn 

For  miserable  aims  that  end  with  self. 

In  thoughts  sublime  that  pierce  the  night  like  stars, 

And  with  their  mild  persistence  urge  man's  search 

To  vaster  issues. 

"  So  to  live,"  she  says,"  is  heaven  ";  and  this  was  the  only 
heaven,  the  only  immortality,  in  which  she  found  it  possible 
to  believe.  It  was  a  noble  faith,  if  not  the  highest.  There 
was,  at  least,  no  pretence  in  her  nature,  either  in  religious 
or  in  other  matters.  Her  character  was,  indeed,  strikingly 
simple  and  sincere.  While  she  was  not  a  great  poet,  the 
passage  just  quoted  is  illustrative  of  the  fact  that  she  did 
produce  a  small  body  of  pure  and  lofty  verse.  Doubtless 
this  poetic  element  in  her  genius  serves  to  touch  her  work 
as  a  novcli.st  to  finer  issues.  That  work  gains  a  unique 
quality  also  from  the  singular  combination  of  masculine 
and  feminine  traits  in  her  character. 


3/6  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

Speaking  more  specifically  of  her  genius  as  a  novelist, 
we  must  first  note  her  wonderful  breadth  of  sympathy. 
Probably  no  Enghsh  novelist  has  had  a  more  profound  or 
Her  Genius  as  ^  Hiorc  cathoUc  interest  in  human  life,  and  the 
a  NoveUst  same  spirit  is  shown  in  her  love  for  nature  and 
for  domestic  animals.  Such  sympathy  is  the  first  condition 
of  understanding,  and  it  is  clear  that  George  Eliot  did  un- 
derstand. The  depth  of  her  insight  was  matched  by  its 
delicacy ;  for  she  had  all  the  penetrating  vigor  of  a  man 
matched  with  the  refined  subtlety  of  a  woman.  These 
giftsfor  the  comprehension  of  human  life  were  supplemented 
by  equal  gifts  for  presenting  it  in  concrete  forms.  She 
had  a  great  creative  imagination.  By  its  power  she  could 
conceive  original,  definite,  and  individual  characters,  and 
could  body  them  forth  in  vivid  reality.  Nothing  is  more 
remarkable  than  her  marvelous  power  of  endowing  her 
creatures  with  life.  Seemingly  without  effort,  she  breathes 
into  them  her  own  living  spirit,  and  makes  them  live  and 
move,  not  as  mere  puppets,  but  as  actual  men  and  women. 
She  is  essentially  a  delineator  of  the  soul,  presenting  man's 
spiritual  nature  through  his  outward  form  and  conduct. 
Yet,  as  we  have  implied,  there  is  no  lack  of  soHd  flesh 
and  blood  in  her  characters.  Hers  is  not  a  presenta- 
tion of  the  spirit  instead  of  the  flesh ;  it  is  a  presenta- 
tion of  the  spirit  through  the  flesh.  Akin  to  this  is 
her  power  to  reach  the  universal  through  the  local.  In 
many  of  her  novels,  the  life  portrayed  is  very  narrow  and 
restricted ;  yet  her  presentation  is  broadly  human  and 
typical  of  man's  life  under  any  conditions.  She  knows 
that  if  one  will  but  go  deep  enough  anywhere,  he  may 
reach  essential  human  nature,  that  which  makes  the  whole 
world  kin.  This  contrast  between  the  narrow  life  and  the 
larger  meaning  is  finely  illustrated  in  Adam  Bede,  which 
is  probably  her  masterpiece,  and  even  more  emphatically 
in   Silas  Marner.     She  began  by  being  a  great  observer. 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  THE   NOVEL  (1S32-1892)       377 

viewing  life  accurately  and  endeavoring  to  portray  it  faith- 
fully. She  added  to  her  fineness  of  observation  a  depth 
of  insight  and  a  sense  of  spiritual  values  whicii  enabled 
her  to  portray  the  inward  as  well  as  the  outward  life. 
Moreover,  she  had  power  to  discern  the  poetry  and  the 
beauty  which  lie  beneath  the  surface  of  life  and  which 
sometimes  transfigure  the  lowliest  characters.  She  was, 
indeed,  a  lover  of  the  beautiful  in  art,  in  nature,  and  in  the 
human  soul,  and  could  discover  the  beauty  of  common 
things  as  well  as  of  common  men  and  women.  Her  emo- 
tional power  is  also  a  most  important  element  in  her  crea- 
tions. Her  pathos  is  the  simple  and  unforced  pathos  of 
human  life  and  destiny.  There  is,  on  the  one  hand,  no  un- 
due restraint,  and  on  the  other,  no  striving  for  mere  effect. 
She  is  a  great  humorist,  not  loud  and  boisterous  like  Dick- 
ens, not  keenly  satirical  like  Thackeray,  but  with  a  breadth, 
a  healthiness,  and  a  geniality  quite  in  harmony  with  her 
sane  and  realistic  view  of  life. 

George  Eliot's  realism  is  of  the  highest  and  best  type. 
Like  both  Dickens  and  Thackeray,  she  goes  to  the  actual 
world  for  her  subjects.  She  deals  for  the  most  part  with 
English  rural  and  provincial  life,  and  especially 
with  the  lower  and  middle  classes.  This  was  ^^'  Subjects 
the  life  she  knew  best  and  the  life  on  which  most  of  her 
greatest  novels  are  based.  She  began  her  work  in  fiction 
with  Scenes  frovi  Clerical  Life,  containing  three  separate 
stories  associated  with  the  general  theme.  The  success  of 
this  work  encouraged  her  to  the  writing  of  her  first  great 
novel,  Adavi  Bede.  It  is  a  vivid  and  most  human  jiicture 
of  life  in  just  such  a  rural  community  as  that  in  which  she 
grew  up  ;  but  it  becomes  even  more  than  that  by  virtue  of 
the  profound  passions  by  which  its  characters  are  moved. 
The  Mill  on  the  Floss  and  Silas  Manicr  are  novels  of  much 
the  same  general  type.  The  former  probably  reflects  in 
an  indirect   way    much   of   her    own    personal    feeling   and 


3/8  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

experience.  The  latter  is  the  most  restricted  in  its  subject- 
matter  of  all  her  great  works,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  objective  and  most  free  from  intrusion  of  the  author's 
personality.  MiddleniarcJi  deals  with  life  in  a  small  pro- 
vincial town,  but  its  range  and  variety  of  character  is  some- 
what greater.  In  Roniola  and  in  Daniel  Deronda,  she  took 
a  much  wider  sweep.  The  latter  has  been  most  criticised 
of  all  her  novels,  and  is  probably  the  least  successful  of 
her  larger  works.  Romola  has  also  found  its  critics,  but 
it  contains  some  of  her  most  masterly  work.  It  is  a  his- 
torical novel,  deahng  with  Florentine  life  in  the  days  of 
Savonarola  ;  and  its  fine  contrast  between  the  fervid  asceti- 
cism of  the  great  Italian  reformer  and  the  beauty-loving 
self-indulgence  of  the  Greek  Tito  Melema  calls  forth  some 
of  her  greatest  powers.  Everywhere  George  Eliot  knows 
her  subject.  In  the  novels  of  English  life,  she  knows  it 
because  she  has  been  a  living  part  of  it.  In  such  a  work 
as  RsMola,  she  knows  it  by  wide  learning  and  by  care- 
ful study.  If  she  is  less  successful  in  work  of  the  latter 
sort,  it  is  because  she  could  not  possibly  feel  with  her 
more  remote  characters  quite  the  same  vital  sympathy  that 
she  feels  with  her  own  Warwickshire  blood.  This  is  a  nec- 
essary limitation  on  all  artists,  and  is  not  to  be  helped  except 
by  such  intimate  and  profound  knowledge  of  the  general 
human  heart  as  she  undoubtedly  possessed. 

Her  manner  of  conception  and  her  method  of  treatment 

make  her  works  a  study  of  life  rather  than  a  study  of  mere 

manners.     She  is  concerned,  not  with  the  acci- 

Her  Methods      ,  ,,  .,,  .itti  n- 

dental,  but  with  the  essential.  Her  handling  of 
life  is  truthful,  but  at  the  same  time  really  imaginative  and 
poetic.  Her  chief  interest  lies  in  the  study  of  individual 
character ;  and  that  study  is  made  significant  by  the  depth 
of  her  insight  and  by  the  subtlety  of  her  analysis.  These 
individual  characters  she  is  able  to  combine  into  a  large 
and  impressive  picture  of  life.    While  her  plots  are  always 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  — THE  NOVEL  (1S32-1S92)  379 

subordinate,  they  are  never  uninteresting  ;  and  if  she  has 
not  quite  the  fascination  of  a  great  story-teller,  like  Scott 
or  Dickens,  she  does  possess  a  fair  degree  of  skill  in  con- 
struction. The  chief  limitation  on  the  general  effect  of 
many  of  her  novels  lies  in  her  strong  tendency  to  infuse 
into  them  a  subjective  element  by  means  of  her  moral  and 
philosophical  reflections  on  the  hfe  that  she  is  portraying. 
This  same  habit  has  been  already  noted  in  Thackeray, 
though  in  somewhat  different  form.  In  George  Eliot,  this 
tendency  toward  abstract  thought  instead  of  concrete  por- 
trayal is  in  peculiar  contrast  with  her  really  great  dramatic 
power.  She  portrays  her  characters  without  any  infusion 
into  them  of  her  own  personality,  and  then  delivers  her 
philosophical  sermon  as  a  thing  almost  apart.  She  was  at 
the  same  time  a  great  thinker  and  a  great  creator  of 
character,  and  she  was  not  quite  able  to  keep  her  abstract 
thinking  separate  from  her  portrayal.  In  the  main,  her 
criticism  of  human  life  is  both  serious  and  conscientious, 
and  falls  short  of  the  very  greatest  work  only  because  she 
felt  impelled  to  preach  as  well  as  to  portray.  Her  novels 
are  at  least  not  marred  by  prejudice  or  by  any  satiric  or 
merely  didactic  purpose  ;  and  even  her  occasional  moral 
dissertations  are  in  harmony  with  her  portrayal.  She  has 
of  late  been  unduly  depreciated  ;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
her  fame  will  eventually  recover  its  own.  Nothing  can 
permanently  obscure  the  fact  that  her  novels  are  great 
works  of  art  —  true,  beautiful,  and  profound  pictures  of 
human  life.  In  the  creation  of  lifelike  character,  she  has 
hardly  had  any  superior  since  Shakespeare. 

With  these  three  great  novelists  as  chief  examples  of 
the  voluminous  fiction  of  the  age,  we  must  be   here  con- 
tent.    The  briefest    possible  glance  at  the  rest   yi^^^^ 
of    the    field   will  serve   the   simple    purpose   of   Novelists 
illustrating  the   range   and  variety  of  work   that   was  pro- 
duced.      Kdward    Hulwer-Lytton   (1S03    1873)  was   a   ver- 


38o  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

satile  novelist,  sensitive  to  changes  of  literary  fashion. 
He  began  as  early  as  1827  with  novels  of  the  "dandy" 
type.  His  taste  was  for  romantic  sentiment  and  for  ef- 
fects of  criminal  and  supernatural  terror.  The  influence  of 
Scott  turned  him  toward  the  historical  novel,  and  here 
he  produced  some  of  his  best  works,  like  TJie  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii  and  Harold.  Still  later,  Thackeray  turned  him 
in  the  direction  of  realism.  His  last  phase  was  again 
romantic,  but  in  the  fashion  of  the  new  age.  Benjamin 
Disraeli  (i  804-1 881)  has  some  affinities  with  Bulwer- 
Lytton,  especially  in  his  cleverness,  versatility,  brilliancy, 
and  superficiality.  His  most  effective  novels  are  pictures 
of  political  and  fashionable  life  in  his  own  day.  They  are 
romantic,  cynical,  witty,  imaginative  —  the  work  of  a  bril- 
liant man  of  the  world  rather  than  of  a  really  great  novel- 
ist. Anthony  Trollope  (1815-1882)  was  a  sort  of  lesser 
Thackeray.  He  dealt  in  realistic  fashion  with  a  wide 
range  of  English  life — clerical,  political,  commercial,  and 
rural.  His  work  is  that  of  an  industrious  and  competent 
literary  craftsman,  never  rising  very  high  and  never  falling 
very  low.  Charles  Reade  (18 14-1884)  reminds  us  rather 
of  Dickens.  Led  by  the  age  to  the  choice  of  realistic 
subjects,  his  personal  impulse  was  to  deal  with  them  in  a 
romantic  manner.  His  best  work,  TJie  Cloister  and  the 
Hearth,  is  a  historical  novel.  Charlotte  Bronte  (1816- 
1855)  suggests  comparison  with  George  Eliot,  but  the  com- 
parison is  one  of  contrast.  In  a  way  quite  her  own,  she 
presented  real  life  in  its  romantic  aspects.  Charles  Kings- 
ley  (1819-1875)  wrote  some  effective  novels  of  purpose, 
with  democratic  leanings,  and  some  still  better  historical 
novels.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  (i  845-1 894)  brought 
back  the  atmosphere  of  true  romance  into  English  fiction. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  romance  of  pure  adventure,  as  in 
Treasure  Island,  sometimes  the  deeper  romance  of  the 
human  spirit,  as  in  Dr.Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde.    It  represents 


THE   AGE   OF    TENNYSON— THE  NOVEL  (1832    1S92)     381 

a  reaction  from  the  realistic  and  scientific  temper  of  the 
age.  These  are  by  no  means  all  of  the  really  important 
novelists  of  the  time.  They  are  simply  the  best  or  the 
most  typical.  These  among  the  dead,  together  with  George 
Meredith  and  others  still  among  the  living,  are  convincing 
illustrations  of  the  fulness,  richness,  and  power  of  the  novel 
during  the  Victorian  Period. 


Thackeray's  House  in  Lunuon,  where  "Vanity  Fair,"  "  Fen- 

UENNIS,"  AND  "HENRY   ES.MOND"   WERE  WRUTEN 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (1832-1892) 

Of  the  four  poets  who  must  be  selected  from  the  larger 
company  to  represent  the  poetry  of  the  present  age, 
Matthew  Matthew  Arnold  was  much  the  youngest  and 
^"°''*  began  his  poetical    career   at   considerably  the 

latest  date.  That  career,  however,  was  almost  entirely 
confined  to  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  and  was  practically 
ended  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  the  latest  of 
the  others  had  ceased  to  write.  Arnold  was  born  in  1822, 
and  was  a  son  of  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold,  the  famous  head 
master  of  P<ugby.  After  finishing  his  preliminary  educa- 
tion at  Rugby,  he  entered  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  and 
later  became  a  fellow  of  Oriel  College.  The  reHgious 
controversies  which  were  stirring  the  University  in  his 
time  united  with  the  general  tendencies  of  the  age  to  unsettle 
Arnold's  faith ;  and  the  note  of  spiritual  conflict  is  heard 
through  much  of  his  poetry  as  well  as  through  his  later 
prose.  During  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  he  held  the 
responsible  position  of  an  inspector  of  schools  ;  and  from 
1857  to  1867  he  was  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford.  His 
first  volume  of  poems  was  published  in  1848,  and  his 
poetical  period  continued  to  the  time  of  his  Oxford  pro- 
fessorship. After  that  time,  he  was  almost  exclusively  a 
writer  of  prose  until  his  death  in  1888.  It  will  thus 
appear  that  his  prose  work  was  the  product  of  his  later 
life,  while  his  poetry  was  the  outcome  of  his  younger 
manhood,  before  the  chilling  influences  of  the  age  had 
entirely  silenced  his  poetic  voice.  The  quality  of  his  prose 
and  its  indication  of  the  character  of  the  man,  we  have 

382 


/Ih^{A 


l{TT^r?iA^ 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNVSOX  —  POETRY  (1S32-1S92)     3S3 

already  sufficiently  considered.  It  remains  here  to  speak 
of  his  poetry  and  to  observe  the  light  which  it  also  throws 
upon  his  personality. 

Between  Arnold's  poetry  and  his  prose  there  is  singu- 
lar difference.  He  seems  to  have  reserved  for  poetical 
expression  those  moods  of  sadness,  of  world-  His  spirit  of 
weariness,  of  anguished  doubt,  and  of  stoical  ^°"^^ 
resignation  and  renunciation  which  probably  represented 
what  lay  most  deeply  hidden  in  his  nature.  We  hear  the 
voice  of  one  who  has  been  disturbed  to  the  very  centre  of 
his  spiritual  life  by  the  doubt  so  prevalent  during  the 
middle  years  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  faith  in 
which  he  had  been  reared  failed  him  utterly,  and  seemed 
to  be  passing  away  also  out  of  the  world.  He  says  in 
Dover  Beach : 

The  Sea  of  Faith 

Was  once,  too.  at  the  full,  and  round  earth's  shore 

Lay  like  the  folds  of  a  bright  girdle  furl'd! 

But  now  I  only  hear 

Its  melancholy,  long,  withdrawing  roar, 

Retreating,  to  the  breath 

Of  the  night-wind,  down  the  vast  edges  drear 

And  naked  shingles  of  the  world. 

There  could  hardly  be  a  more  pathetic  expression  of  the 
deep  melancholy  of  doubt.  There  could  hardly  be  a  more 
beautiful  one.  He  seems,  as  he  says  in  his  Sta)izas  from 
the  Grande  Chartreuse,  like  one 

Wandering  between  two  worlds,  one  dead. 
The  other  powerless  to  be  born. 

Through  most  of  his  poetry  this  same  spirit  runs,  this 
painful  sense  of 

The  something  that  infects  the  world. 

To  all  this  pain  and  emptiness,  Arnold  opposes  first 
resignation,  then  duty.  In  the  poem  entitled  Morality,  he 
declares : 


384  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

We  cannot  kindle  when  we  will 

The  fire  which  in  the  heart  resides ; 

The  spirit  bloweth  and  is  still, 

In  mystery  our  soul  abides. 

But  tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed 

Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled. 

In  a  poem  like  Palladhwi,  as  more  or  less  in  man)> 
others,  it  is  made  clear  to  us  that  Arnold  has  a  still  further 
HisConsoia-  consolation.  Doubt  has  not  made  him  a  materi- 
tions  ^jjg^ .  j^g  g^jjj  believes  in  the  soul  as  something 

above  the  flesh. 

Still  doth  the  soul,  from  its  lone  fastness  high, ' 
Upon  our  life  a  ruling  effluence  send  ; 
And  when  it  fails,  fight  as  we  will,  we  die ; 
And,  while  it  lasts,  we  cannot  wholly  end. 

In  Rugby  Chapel,  we  see  him  standing  by  the  grave  of  his 
father,  a  man  of  "radiant  vigor"  and  of  splendid  faith. 
The  contrast  between  father  and  son  is  as  pathetic  as 
it  is  significant.  From  thought  of  what  the  father  was, 
the  son  draws  inspiration  and  courage  and  even  some- 
thing of  faith.  Yet  after  all,  he  knows  full  well  that  he 
must  be  sufficient  unto  himself.  The  sense  of  isolation  is 
upon  him,  as  well  as  the  sense  of  lost  faith.  He  cries  in 
Marguerite  : 

Yes !  in  the  sea  of  Hfe  enisled. 
With  echoing  straits  between  us  thrown, 
Dotting  the  shoreless  watery  wild. 
We  mortal  millions  live  alone. 

The  few  lines  that  have  been  quoted  would  alone  be 
sufficient  to  show  the  classical  perfection  of  Arnold's  poetic 
Character  of  stylc.  He  is  a  poet  of  limited  range  and  product, 
his  Poetry  ^^t  almost  all  that  he  has  written  is  worthy  to 
live.  He  lacked  the  passion  and  the  music  that  make  a 
great  lyric  poet,  although  his  exquisite  art  sometimes 
achieved  most  beautiful  effects.  Of  his  narrative  poems, 
only  one  is  a  genuine  success.     In  SoJirab  and  Riistiim, 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (1832-1892)   385 

however,  his  classic  style  is  combined  with  a  romantic  story 
to  fine  poetic  results.  His  true  field  is  that  of  meditation 
and  reflection  rather  than  that  of  passionate  heart  utter- 
ance or  of  objective  portrayal.  There  is  passion  in  Arnold's 
poetry,  but  it  is  rather  a  passion  of  the  brain.  Beyond  the 
poems  already  mentioned,  some  of  his  finest  work  is  to  be 
found  in  The  Strayed  Reveller,  in  that  beautiful  piece  of 
pure  poetic  fancy,  The  Forsaken  Merman,  and  in  his  elegiac 
poems.  Thyrsis,  a  monody  on  the  death  of  his  friend  and 
fellow-poet,  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  is  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful elegies  in  the  language  ;  and  scarcely  less  noteworthy  is 
its  companion  poem,  The  Scholar-Gypsy. 

Ehzabeth  Barrett  Browning  was  a  woman  of  fine  intelli- 
gence and  of  broad  culture  ;  but  in  almost  all  other  re- 
spects she  was  in  strong  contrast  with  Matthew  j-jj^^^^jj^ 
Arnold.     In   his  poetry,  it  is   the  intellect  that  Barrett 

,  .       ,  ....  X  11      1  1        Browning 

speaks ;  m  hers,  it  is  the  heart.  In  all  that  he 
wrote,  there  is  the  classical  refinement  and  finish  that  marks 
the  presence  of  a  fine  critical  faculty  ;  Mrs.  Browning  had 
the  fire  and  the  inspiration,  but  lacked  more  than  anything 
else  the  power  of  self-criticism.  In  still  more  important 
matters  there  is  the  same  ai)parent  divergence.  So  far  as 
we  can  see,  Mrs.  Browning  was  almost  untouched  by  the 
scientific  spirit  of  the  age  or  by  its  religious  struggle  and 
doubt.  Unlike  George  Eliot,  she  was  thoroughly  feminine 
in  nature  ;  and  her  woman's  intuition  found  the  spiritual 
where  it  could  not  be  found  by  much  intellectual  searching. 
In  an  analytic  and  inquiring  age,  she  was  a  creature  of 
passion  and  impulse,  a  lover  of  romance  and  of  the  beauty 
of  Italy  and  Greece.  She  was  touched,  however,  by  the 
democratic  spirit,  or  rather  by  something  that  is  or  should 
be  the  fine  flower  of  democracy — the  sjiirit  of  sweet  hu- 
man charity  for  all  God's  creatures.  None  of  her  poems 
affords  better  illustration  of  this  than  The  Cry  of  the  Chii 
ilrcn,  a  jjoetic  |)rotest  against  the  sacrifice  of  child  life 


386  DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIKNCI-:    (1832-1892) 

tHe  modern  spirit  of  iiulustrialistn.  That  she  loved  liberty, 
is  written  large  in  Cnsa  Guidi  Wuuiows  and  in  many  other 
poems. 

Two  main  fanlts  are  eharged  against  Mrs.   l^rowning's 
poetry.     In  the  first  place,  it  is  said  that  she  lacked  definite- 
ness  in  her  conceptions  and  a  clear  and  well-ordered  arrange- 
ment of  her  material —  in  other  words,  that  she 

Her  Poetry  1    ,  •  rr  t        1  i 

was  somewhat  vague  and  dilruse.  I  n  the  second 
place,  it  is  said  that  she  was  extremely  careless  in  details 
of  style  and  metre.  These  are  important  matters,  and  it  is 
probable  that  in  both  cases  the  full  justice  of  the  criticism 
must  be  allowed.  It  can  only  be  pleaded  against  them 
that  they  should  not  be  given  undue  weight  to  the  detri- 
ment of  her  ]K)etic  fame,  and  that  they  are  more  than  offset 
by  certain  other  qualities  which  she  possessed  in  an  eminent 
degree.  In  the  first  place,  the  whole  tone  and  character  of 
her  thought  was  poetic.  Her  ideas  were  such  as  naturally 
sought  expression  in  poetry  rather  than  in  prose.  It  might 
even  be  said,  more  broadly,  that  her  whole  character  and 
temper  were  poetic.  She  carried  about  her,  so  to  say,  a 
poetic  atmosj^here.  This  being  true,  poetry  was  to  her  a 
thoroughly  natural  mode  of  utterance — less  an  art  than  an 
instinct ;  and  this  may  in  some  measure  account  for  an 
ease  which  often  amounted  to  carelessness.  Suchanatine 
would  least  feel  the  need  of  a  discipline  like  that  which 
made  Pope  and  Tennyson  such  perfect  poetic  artists ;  and 
that  discipline  was  precisely  what  her  spontaneous  genius 
most  needed.  l'ciha[)s  her  preeminent  gift  was  poetic 
passion.  It  was  poured  out  richly  into  such  brief  lyrics  as 
The  Cry  of  the  J/i/iikjh,  The  House  of  Clouds,  Cowpcrs 
Grave,  CUaniia  to  Cdtfioe/is,  and  A  Musical  I iistruiiuiit ;  it 
informed  many  a  fine  passage  even  in  her  long  verse  noxel, 
Aurora  Leigh  ;  it  rang  with  a  high  and  resonant  note  in 
her  poems  on  Italian  freedom  and  in  (\rsa  Guidi  Windows  ; 
it  is  nowhere  more  aj-)parent  than  in  her  SoNUcts  from  the 


THK  AGK  (^K  TKNNVSON        TOKTRV   (1832   1892)      3S7 

/^or/tt!^/irsr.  Such  pjiems  as  ninny  of  tlicsc  illuslrato,  top, 
her  fine  gift  of  lyrio  iniisio.  She  was  a  splendid  singer, 
even  if  she  was  sometimes  guiUv  of  a  falsi>  note.  Wo 
must  grant  her  also  the  larger  endowment  ol  poetir  im- 
agination. She  eould  see,  clearly  and  vividh.  and  slie  was 
ahle  in  large  measure  to  "realize"  her  vision  in  outward 
forms.  Among  other  ptu-ms  that  strikingly  illustrate  hei 
imaginative  power,  may  be  n.inud  ///<•  Rhyme  of  1  he  Puthtss 
May  and  .  I  /  txioti  of  Ports.  These  and  all  lui  poems  illus- 
trate the  charm  of  poetic  beauty  that  is  t-veiy where  in  Ium 
work  and  that  exalts  it  above  all  detraction. 

Mrs.   Browning's  masterpiece,  the   work  lli.il  best  illus- 
trates all  her  poetii-  powers,  is  her  Sonnrts  fiom  the  /\>ifii 
jrutsr.      It  is  a  sotuiet  cvcle,  enshrining  to  a  poetic  ^, 
jmmortalitv  her  love  for  Robert  I^rowning.     The  ii..m(hr 
title  is  a  mere  vcM  or  lanntul  disguise;   tor   tin- 
poems  are  all  origin. U,  personal,  and  intini.itr.       The  whole 
number  of  sonnets  is  forty-four,  and  the  series  illustrates 
dilferent  phases  in  the  progress  of  herjiassion.      She  records 
how  love  came  lo  lui-  as  slu-  stood   expecting  death,  how 
she  feared  to  look  so  high  oi'  to  aci-e|)l  such  bliss,  how  her 
love  hade  her  rather  jirepare  for  nuiunciation,  bow  .she  fo\ni(l 
her  supreme  joy  at  last  in  acceptance  and  in  selt-sui  lender. 
This  is  the  next  to  the  last  of  the  sonnets: 

How  (111  1  lovi"  tlu'c?     l.ri  inc  count  llicw.ivs. 

I  lovo  tlitc  to  llictlcpth  ami  l)iciuilli  and  liciLjIU 

My  soul  c.u)  iT.ich,  when  fi'rlinjj  out  of  .sij;lu 

For  the  cikIs  of  bring  and  ido.il  |;racc. 

I  love  thcr  lo  the  irvcl  of  every  day'.s 

Most  (luiet  need,  by  .sun  am\  candie-Ii^lit. 

I  love  tliee  freely,  as  men  strive  for  ri;;lu. 

I  love  thee  purely,  a.H  they  tiirnlium  pi.iisc. 

I  love  thee  with  the  passion  put  lo  use 

In  niv  old  (.griefs,  and  with  my  ehildhood's  l.iith. 

I  love  lhe«-  with  a  loVc  I  seemed  to  lose 

With  my  lost  ».iint».     I  lovc  thee  with  tlie  bre.ith, 


388  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE   (1832-1892) 

Smiles,  tears,  of  all  my  life  ;  and,  if  God  choose, 
I  shall  but  love  thee  better  after  death. 

Of  all  the  great  men  of  literary  genius  in  his  time, 
Robert  Browning  was  the  strongest,  the  sanest,  and  the 
Robert  healthiest  in  body  and  in  spirit.     The  man  was 

Browning  alive  in  every  fibre,  and  all  his  work  is  per- 
meated with  the  vigor  of  his  intense  personality.  His  long 
and  happy  life  was  comparatively  uneventful.  Born 
in  London,  in  1812,  he  was  educated  under  the  direc- 
tion of  his  father  and  found  later  in  foreign  travel  his 
substitute  for  a  university  training.  There  is  ample  evi- 
dence in  his  work  that  he  was  a  man  of  rich  learning  and  of 
broad  culture.  Aside  from  his  literary  achievements,  the 
most  interesting  event  of  Browning's  life  was  his  marriage 
with  Elizabeth  Barrett.  Theirs  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
love  stories  in  all  literature,  and  it  was  crowned  by  a 
happy  wedded  life  of  fifteen  years,  in  Florence.  The  death 
of  Mrs.  Browning  in  1861  was  the  great  sorrow  of  his 
life.  After  that  time,  he  spent  most  of  his  life  in  Eng- 
land, but  died  in  Venice  in   1889. 

Browning  seems  to  have  been  comparatively  unaffected 
by  the  great  impulses  of  his  age,  either  in  the  way  of  accept- 
Reiationto  ance  or  of  antagonism.  It  was  not  that  he  did 
his  Age  not  f  gg^   these   influences  —  at  least  in  general 

and  unconscious  ways ;  it  was  rather  that  he  received 
them  as  a  strong  and  steady  and  self-assured  personality, 
not  to  be  easily  moved  by  any  forces  from  his  own 
place  or  direction.  Science  did  not  disturb  his  soul,  and 
he  was  perfectly  willing  to  accept  all  of  its  established 
conclusions ;  but  he  was  also  perfectly  aware  of  the 
questions  that  it  was  raising,  and  met  them  with  an 
assured  faith  and  optimism.  His  analytical  habit  was  in 
entire  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  science,  and  so  was  his 
unhesitating  willingness  to  look  all  truth  in  the  face.  But 
he  received  its  message  as  a  poet  and  as  a  man  of  faith, 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (1832-1892;    389 

and  was  unshaken  either  in  his  poetic  ideals  or  in  his  relig- 
ious assurance.  While  he  was  not  a  democrat  in  any 
ordinary  sense  of  the  term  —  while  he  did  not  speak  for 
human  freedom  or  make  himself  the  mouthpiece  of  "the 
people  "-  he  was  nevertheless  democratic  in  the  broadest 
sense.  Nothing  human  was  alien  to  him,  all  men  were  his 
spiritual  brothers,  all  personalities  appealed  to  his  catholic 
interest  and  sympathy.  He  cared  little  for  actual  political 
conditions,  as  he  cared  little  for  general  laws  or  principles. 
What  he  cared  for  above  all  was  the  individual  human 
soul,  and  in  that  field  his  interest  was  as  broad  as  it  was 
profound.  There  was  probably  the  real  basis  of  his  un- 
shaken faith.  If  science  found  in  its  study  of  the  natural 
world  no  evidence  of  spirit,  and  felt  itself  driven  toward 
materialism,  Browning,  on  the  other  hand,  found  in  his  study 
of  human  personality  full  reason  to  believe  in  the  soul,  in 
God,  and  in  immortalitv.  What  others  could  not  find  in 
the  physical  facts  or  laws  of  the  universe,  he  found  in  the 
essential  nature  of  man.  His  faith  and  optimism,  there- 
fore, were  the  result  of  no  purblind  orthodoxy  but  rather 
of  a  reasoned  and  well-grounded  conviction.  In  this  spirit, 
he  spoke  with  assurance,  with  earnestness,  with  exultation, 
but  in  no  temper  of  controversy  or  antagonism.  In  Rabbi 
Ben  Ezra,  he  expresses  himself  thus  : 

Fool  !     AH  that  is,  at  all, 
Lasts  ever,  past  recall ; 
Earth  changes,  but  thy  soul  and  God  stand  sure. 

It  is  one  of  the  peculiar  glories  of  Browning  that  he  seems, 
almost  from  the  first,  to  have  caught  as  by  a  sort  of  intui- 
tion the  spirit  and  teaching  of  his  own  generation,  to  have 
accepted  its  permanent  gains,  and  then  to  have  passed  on 
beyond  its  doubts  and  fears  to  be  the  projihct  of  a  new  day 
when  men  shcaild  .see  with  vision  unclouded  by  the  smoke 
and  dust  of  conflict. 

Browning  was,  of  course,  a  poet  with  a  message.     While 


390  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

he  was  primarily  a  great  student  and  portrayer  of  life 
rather  than  a  teacher,  he  understood  well  that  life  teaches 
and  endeavored  to  interpret  its  meaning.  We  may  prop- 
erly speak  of  his  teaching  as  in  some  sense  a  philosophy 
HisPhiioso-  of  life.  To  touch  on  all  the  points  involved  in 
phy  of  Life  ^^^^  philosophy  would  be  to  discuss  most  of  his 
poetry.  We  can  only  attempt  to  blaze  a  way  through  the 
forest  —  or,  as  the  dramatic  and  human  quality  of  Brown- 
ing's poetry  might  rather  suggest,  to  push  a  way  through 
the  crowd — indicating  some  of  the  main  points  of  his 
thinking,  leaving  much  to  be  inferred  or  imagined. 

Beginning  on  the  lower  levels  of  his  thought.  Browning 

was  emphatically  a  poet  who  dealt  with  the  physical  life  of 

man,  who   felt  "  the  value  and  sisrnificance  of 

The  Flesh  n      ,    ,,       tt  ■   ,       n  1  • 

flesh.  He  was  a  man  with  all  his  senses  keenly 
alive.  His  appreciation  of  the  physical  life,  however,  was 
something  more  than  mere  sensuousness  of  temperament. 
It  was  reasoned  doctrine.  It  was  not  a  physical  life  of 
luxurious  enjoyment  that  Browning  exalted,  but  one  of 
strenuous  endeavor.     In  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  he  urges  : 

Strive,  and  hold  cheap  the  strain ; 
Learn,  nor  account  the  pang  ;  dare,  never  grudge  the  throe ! 

Strive,  learn,  dare  —  these  three  words  indicate  much  of 
Browning's  philosophy  of  life. 

Browning  was,  of  course,  something  vastly  more  than  the 
poet  of  the  merely  physical  life,  even  in  its  highest  and 
best  manifestations.  He  was  also,  as  Alfred  Domett 
called  him,  the  "  Subtlest  Assertor  of  the  Soul 
in  Song."  He  taught  that  soul  and  body  may  be 
mutually  helpful  in  their  union,  that  the  body  may  serve 
to  "project  the  soul  on  its  lone  way."  He  taught,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  the  soul  has  its  own  aims  and  powers,  and 
may,  in  the  development  of  its  higher  functions,  sometimes 
find  the  body  a  hindrance  as  well  as  a  help.     This  and 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (.1832-1892)     391 

much   more  is  finely  expressed  in  a  notable  passage  from 

Paracelsus: 

Truth  is  within  ourselves  ;  it  takes  no  rise 
From  outward  things,  whate'er  you  may  believe. 
There  is  an  inmost  centre  in  us  all, 
Where  truth  abides  in  fulness  ;  and  around, 
Wall  upon  wall,  the  gross  flesh  hems  it  in, 
This  perfect,  clear  perception —  which  is  truth. 
A  baffling  and  perverting  carnal  mesh 
Hinds  it,  and  makes  all  error:  and  to  K..\o\v 
Rather  consists  in  opening  out  a  way 
Whence  the  imprisoned  splendour  may  escape, 
Than  in  eflecting  entry  for  a  light 
Supposed  to  be  without. 

This  is  not  exactly  the  doctrine  of  modern  realism  in  art 
and  literature,  any  more  than  it  is  exactly  the  teaching  of 
modern  science.  It  is  at  least  a  splendid  poetic  conception 
of  man  as  the  possessor  of  a  living  soul,  out  of  which  are 
the  issues  of  life.  One  of  Browning's  favorite  doctrines 
was  that  the  unloosing  of  this  "imprisoned  splendour" 
is  achieved  mainly  through  the  contact  of  the  soul  with 
higher  personalities,  and  ultimately  with  the  divine  per- 
sonality. God  may  influence  the  soul  through  nature  as 
well  as  through  human  personalities.  Sometimes  the  soul 
may  feel  the  direct  and  immediate  touch  of  the  divine  per- 
sonality, without  any  intervention  of  nature  or  of  other 
human  souls.  In  any  case,  here  is  the  soul,  with  its  innate 
powers,  to  be  elicited  by  whatever  means  —  not  a  blank 
sheet,  to  be  written  uj^on  by  hands  human  or  divine,  but  an 
"  imprisoned  splendour,"  to  be  let  loose  for  a  light  to  men. 
To  Browning,  the  great  fact  of  our  merely  human  life 
was  the  fact  of   man  and  woman  —  on  the  physical  side, 

the    fact    of    sex on    the    soul    side,    the    fact    of    Love:  Human 

spiritual  difference  and  correspondence.     There-  """^ '^^'"* 
fore  he  magnified  and  glorified  human  love.     lie  makes 
the  CJypsy  Queen  in   The  T'/it^/tt  of  the  Ducluss  sing 
How  love  is  the  only  good  in  the  world. 


392  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

Even  to  the  unrequited  lover,  love  is  good,  as  he  has  shown 
in  that  magnificent  love-song,  TJie  Last  Ride  Together. 
Every  reader  of  Browning  knows  what  passionate  intensity 
he  has  put  into  his  portrayal  of  love.  Pippa  Passes,  In  a 
Balcony,  In  a  Gondola,  these  but  afford  some  of  the  finest 
among  many  illustrations.  Not  out  of  his  imagination 
alone  did  Browning  write  such  love  poetry  as  this.  His 
own  being  had  throbbed  with  the  love  that  he  describes ; 
and  dramatic  poet  as  he  is,  we  can  hear  once  and  again 
the  lyric  voice  of  his  own  heart.  How  exalted  was  his 
personal  affection,  how  infinitely  more  than  merely  sen- 
suous was  his  poetic  treatment  of  human  love,  we 
may  learn  from  all  his  poetry.  We  may  learn  also 
that  his  conception  of  love  has  a  more  than  human 
range.  As  on  the  lower  levels  he  saw  the  great  fact 
of  man  and  woman  and  exalted  human  love,  so  to 
him  the  great  fact  of  the  spiritual  life  was  God  and 
man,  and  he  exalted  spiritual  love.  God's  love  to  us, 
our  love  to  Him  —  this  is  the  foundation  and  the  ulti- 
mate reward  of  all  faith.  This  is  especially  the  great 
teaching  of  Saul  and  A  Death  in  the  Desert,  as  well  as 
of  other  poems. 

Browning  was  first  of  all  the  poet  of  man  —  of  man 
physical  and  man  spiritual.  He  was  also  a  poet  vitally 
Man  and  interested  in  man's  relation  to  the  world  around 
Nature  ^ma — primarily,  of  course,  in  his  relation  to  the 

visible  world.  Here  Browning  was  met  by  the  problems 
that  modern  science  had  raised,  and  like  a  true  poet,  he 
felt  the  weight  and  pressure  of  those  problems.  There 
was  no  revolt  against  science,  but  rather  a  frank  and 
cordial  acceptance  of  its  demonstrated  conclusions,  with 
due  recognition,  however,  of  scientific  limitations  and 
with  due  protest  against  its  unwarranted  assumptions. 
He  perceived  the  difficulties  which  science  had  placed 
in  the   way  of   faith,  but  here,  again,  he  had  no  contro- 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (1S32-1892)     393 

versy  with  true  science.  In  BisJiop  Blougrains  Apology, 
he  makes  the  Bishop  speak  of 

Cosmogony, 
Geology,  ethnology,  what  not 
(Greek  endings,  e,ich  the  little  passing-hell 
That  signifies  some  faith's  about  to  die). 

Not  for  him,  however,  was  science  the  passing-bell  of 
faith.  He  was  probably  uttering  somewhat  of  his  own 
thought  when  he  made  Bishop  Blougram  say  further : 

With  me  faith  means  perpetual  unbelief 

Kept  quiet  like  the  snake  'neath  Michael's  foot. 

Who  stands  firm  just  because  he  feels  him  writhe. 

Against  all  doubt,  Browning  preserved  the  full  assurance 
that  there  is  a  world  invisible  as  well  as  a  world  visible  — 
a  world  supernatural  as  well  as  a  world  natu-  The  Spiritual 
ral  —  and  that  man  is  living  always  in  vital  ^°^''* 
relation  to  both.  That  God  is,  and  that  he  is  all-benefi- 
cent—  in  this  supreme  assurance,  despite  all  temptation 
to  believe  otherwise.  Browning  lived  and  wrote.  God  is 
not  altogether  such  as  we  are,  though  different  minds 
will  shadow-  forth  conceptions  of  him  determined  by 
their  own  natures  and  capacities.  In  Caliban  upon  Sete- 
bos,  the  half  beast  Caliban  sprawls  "  flat  on  his  belly  in 
the  pit's  much  mire,"  "  kicks  both  feet  in  the  cool  slush," 
and  meditates  upon  "  that  other,  whom  his  dam  called 
God."  How  "heaven-high  removed"  from  his  conception 
is  that  of  David  as  he  sings  before  the  stricken  king 
in  Saul,  or  that  of  the  dying  apostle  in  A  Death  in  the 
Desert  : 

If  Christ,  as  thou  affirmest,  be  of  men 

Mere  man,  the  first  and  best  but  nothing  more,  — 

Account  Him,  for  reward  of  what  He  was. 

Now  and  forever,  wretchedcst  of  all   .   .   . 

Call  Christ,  then,  the  illimitable  God, 

Or  lost! 


394  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

It  is  the  test  of  death  that  puts  all  human  theories  to  the 
proof.  Neither  Browning  nor  we  can  look  beyond  it  to 
The  Test  of  know  what  it  shall  bring;  but  it  is  at  least  sig- 
Death  nificaut  to    know  how  the  great   poet    contem- 

plated for  himself  the  supreme  change.  He  taught  that 
man  is  spirit  and  immortal,  that  God  is  and  loves,  that 
death  is  but  the  doorway  to  an  infinite  progress  of  life 
beyond.  Was  his  doctrine  an  actual  stay  to  his  own  soul  .-* 
Did  he  himself  face  the  thought  of  death  "fearless  and 
unperplexed "  ?  Two  of  his  briefer  poems  help  to  give 
us  the  answer.  The  first  is  Prospice,  written  in  the  noon- 
tide of  his  own  life,  but  just  after  the  death  of  his 
wife.  The  other  is  the  Epilogue  to  Asolando.  It  is  the 
last  poem  of  his  last  volume.  As  he  read  it  over  in  its 
first  printed  form  just  before  his  departure,  he  said  :  "  It 
almost  looks  like  bragging  to  say  this,  and  as  if  I  ought  to 
cancel  it ;  but  it's  the  simple  truth ;  and  as  it's  true  it  shall 
stand."  He  looked  on  the  face  of  death  with  the  same 
bold  and  confident  spirit  that  had  made  him  one  of  the 
great  masters  of  life. 

Here  was  a  great  man,  strong  and  subtle  in  mind, 
steadfast  and  confident  in  soul.  Here  was  also  a  great 
A  Dramatic  poct,  able  to  bring  the  resources  of  the  poet's 
^"^^  art  into  the  service  of   a  splendid  intelligence. 

To  him,  more  than  to  most  men,  poetry  was  an  instru- 
ment of  truth.     As  he  himself  says,  in  The  Ring  and  the 

Book, 

Art  remains  the  one  way  possible 
Of  spealcing  truth,  to  mouths  like  mine  at  least. 

This  truth  he  expresses  through  an  objective  and  dramatic 
portrayal  of  life.  He  describes  his  own  work  as  "poetry 
always  dramatic  in  principle,  the  utterances  of  so  many 
imaginary  personages,  not  mine."  We  seldom  hear  his 
own  direct  voice,  but  ever  the  voices  of  the  men  and 
women  whom  his  imagination  has  created.     He  portrays 


THE  AGE  OP^  TENNYSON— POETRY   (1S32-1S92)      395 

these  men  and  women  as  they  exist  here  and  now.  They 
are  bodies,  with  all  the  powers  and  passions  and  weak- 
nesses of  the  flesh;  they  are  souls,  with  all  their  infinite 
possibilities  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  purity  or  degradation. 
They  are  living  and  acting  in  the  midst  of  a  real  and 
visible  world,  but  they  are  surrounded  by  a  world  invisible 
and  spiritual.  To  illustrate  Browning's  portrayal  of  real 
men  and  women  in  the  midst  of  their  actual  environment, 
we  have  only  to  open  his  volume  at  random  and  read ;  for 
this  is  the  task  of  all  his  poetry. 

Browning's  favorite  art  form  —  a  form  that  he  made 
peculiarly  his  own  —  is  the  dramatic  monologue.  In  prin- 
ciple, it  is  a  type  of  poem  in  which  the  words  arc  dramatic 
uttered  by  an  imaginary  speaker,  who  reveals  Monologue 
his  character,  his  attitude,  his  situation,  and  perhaps  throws 
some  light  upon  other  persons  of  whom  or  to  whom  he 
speaks.  His  marvelous  insight  into  the  human  soul  and 
his  no  less  marvelous  power  of  imaginative  conception 
enable  Browning  to  realize  his  dramatic  purpose  with 
equal  subtlety  and  vividness.  There  are  in  reality  several 
different  types  of  dramatic  monologue,  the  distinction  be- 
tween which  is  important.  There  are  first  "  Dramatic 
Lyrics"  —  like  Old  Pictures  in  Florence,  Saul,  Abt  Vogler, 
and  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra  —  in  which  the  chief  stress  is  laid 
upon  an  emotional  state,  and  in  which  Browning  displays 
a  wonderful  gift  of  pure  lyric  music.  Then  there  are 
"Dramatic  Romances"  —  like  T/ie  Flight  of  tJic  Duchess, 
In  a  Gondola,  2iX\i\  Childe  Roland — in  which  character  is 
associated  with  a  romantic  story.  Again,  there  are  "  Dra- 
matic Idyls  "  —  like  Plieidippides,Ned  Bratts,  and  Clive  — 
in  which  character  is  thrown  out  against  tlie  background 
of  a  vivid  picture.  Browning  does  not  always  clearly  dis- 
criminate all  these  from  the  dramatic  monologue  proper  — 
illustrated  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Fra  Lippo  I.ipf^i,  and 
Cleon  —  but    he  seems   to   have   had  the  i>everal  types  in 


396  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

mind.  In  the  lyric  and  the  monologue  proper,  the  speaker 
is  more  likely  to  be  unfolding  himself  —  his  emotional 
mood  or  his  fuller  personality.  In  the  romance  and  the 
idyl,  he  is  more  likely  to  be  unfolding  the  character  of 
another. 

Browning's  great  masterpiece  is  T]ie  Ring  and  the  Book. 
It  is  an  immense  work,  and  practically  consists  of  a  series 
The  Ring  and  ^^  extended  dramatic  monologues.  In  the  first 
the  Book  ^^^  jg^g|-  Qf  |-]^g  twclvc  books,  he  sets  forth  the 
pathetic  story  of  Pompilia,  a  Roman  girl  murdered  by  her 
brutal  husband.  Count  Guido.  In  each  of  the  other  ten, 
the  case  is  reviewed  by  some  more  or  less  interested  per- 
son, and  we  are  led  to  see  how  the  same  simple  facts 
make  their  varied  impression  upon  different  types  of  mind. 
The  characters  of  Guido,  Pompilia,  Caponsacchi  the  noble 
priest,  and  the  good  Pope  are  magnificent  creations  ;  and 
the  whole  work  is  a  splendid  exhibition  of  imaginative  and 
poetic  power. 

It  remains  to  be  observed  that  Browning  attempted 
some  work  in  the  formal  drama.  In  spite  of  his  great 
dramatic  genius,  he  was  comparatively  unsuc- 
cessful. His  power  lay  rather  in  illustrating 
critical  moments  in  the  history  of  an  individual  soul  than 
in  setting  a  picture  of  active  life  upon  the  stage.  He  was 
psychological  and  inward  in  his  dealings  with  character, 
and  showed  too  little  the  effective  deeds  of  men.  The 
abstruseness  of  his  thought  and  the  difficulties  of  his  style 
were  not  favorable  to  stage  presentation.  In  spite  of 
these  and  other  drawbacks,  however,  some  of  his  dramas 
are  in  their  way  most  striking  productions.  There,  as 
always,  he  is  the  profound  revealer  of  man's  inner  life. 
Probably  his  most  effective  play  on  the  stage  is  A  Blot  in 
the  '  Scntcheo7t,  but  Strafford  has  also  been  fairly  successful. 
One  of  his  finest  masterpieces,  Pippa  Passes,  is  hardly  to 
be  called  a  drama  at  all.     It  lies  rather  between  the  true 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY   (1832-1S92)     397 

drama  and  the  monologue.  One  of  his  earliest  works,  it 
still  remains  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  perfect.  Not 
even  in  portraying  the  little  silk-winding  girl, whose  simple 
life  unconsciously  touches  those  of  the  four  greatest  and 
supposedly  happiest  souls  in  her  native  Asolo,  can  Brown- 
ing hold  himself  quite  aloof  from  his  creation  ;  but  if  he  is 
not  quite  the  perfect  dramatist,  forgetting  himself  in  the 
beings  he  has  made,  he  is  at  least  the  subtle  interpreter  of 
life  and  the  soul. 

Alfred  Tennyson,  the  son  of  a  cultured  country  clergy- 
man, was  born  in  1809,  at  Somersby,  in  Lincolnshire.  All 
his  surroundings  tended  to  develop  in  iiim  the  ^j^^^^ 
love  for  nature,  the  spirit  of  conservatism,  and  Tennyson 
the  refined  culture  which  were  so  strongly  marked  in  his 
character.  His  poetical  career  began  while  he  was  a  mem- 
ber of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  here,  too,  he  formed 
some  of  the  great  friendships  of  his  life.  Closest  of  all 
to  his  heart  was  Arthur  Henry  Hallam,  with  whom  he 
was  a  member  of  a  famous  group  known  as  "  the  twelve 
apostles."  Hallam's  death  in  1833  plunged  him  into  pro- 
found sorrow,  and  led  to  the  writing  of  his  great  master- 
piece, /;/  Mcmoriavi.  This  poem  was  published  in  1850, 
and  the  same  year  is  marked  by  his  marriage  and  by  his 
appointment  as  poet-laureate.  Tennyson's  long  life  was 
lived  in  poetic  seclusion.  This  was  due  partly  to  his  tem- 
perament and  partly  to  his  conviction  that  the  poet  should 
watch  the  spectacle  of  life  from  his  calm  height  with  sym- 
pathetic interest,  but  should  not  engage  in  its  activities. 
Until  his  death  in  1892,  he  wrought  out  calmly  and  strongly 
his  self-appointed  tasks,  unswerved  by  praise  or  blame. 
Fame  came  to  him  in  ample  measure,  but  better  than  fame 
was  his  ever  widening  influence  for  good  in  literature  and 
in  life.  His  elevation  to  the  peerage,  in  1884,  with  the  title 
of  Baron  of  Aldworth  and  Farringford,  was  a  rec()gnitit)n 
of  his   unique   place  among  the   poets  of   his  generation. 


398  DEMOCRACY   AND   SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

Tennyson,  if  not  absolutely  the  greatest,  was  at  least 
the  most  representative  poet  of  his  age.  He  was  sensitive 
Tennyson  ^^  all  its  influences,  reflected  all  its  movements, 
and  his  Age  and  felt  a  poet's  sympathy  with  the  various 
phases  of  its  life.  He  may  be  said  to  have  walked  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  his  time,  in  the  first  rank,  but  hardly  a 
step  before  or  a  step  behind.  His  art  recognized  and  ac- 
cepted the  scientific  method,  and  not  a  little  of  his  noblest 
imagery  and  of  his  deepest  thought  was  drawn  from  scien- 
tific sources.  Above  all,  he  accepted  the  scientific  doc- 
trine of  evolution,  and  helped  to  reconcile  that  doctrine 
with  spiritual  faith.  He  felt  and  voiced  the  prevailing 
doubt  and  sadness  of  his  generation.  The  struggle  in  his 
soul  was  long  and  bitter.  His  nature  would  not  allow  him 
the  easy  victory  and  the  confident  faith  of  Browning,  but 
neither  was  he  left  to  the  cold  and  stoical  resignation  of 
Arnold.     He  was  able  at  last  to  say : 

Not  in  vain, 
Like  Paul  with  beasts,  I  fought  with  death. 

The  problems  most  interesting  to  him  were  those  which 
concern  the  development  and  destiny  of  mankind.  His 
poetry  expresses  the  abiding  faith  of  man,  unconquerable 
by  temporary  doubts  and  fears.  Tennyson  was  also  in 
sympathy  with  what  is  best  in  modern  democracy,  al- 
though he  felt  its  dangers  and  shrank  from  its  excesses. 
His  artistic  sympathy  is  displayed  in  his  various  portrayals 
of  lowly  characters  and  humble  life,  from  EnocJi  Arden 
to  The  Northern  Farmer.  The  democratic  sympathy  of  the 
man  is  equally  apparent.     He  loved  England  because  it  is 

The  land,  where  girt  with  friends  or  foes 
A  man  may  speak  the  thing  he  will ;  .  .  . 

Where  Freedom  slowly  broadens  down 
From  precedent  to  precedent. 

"The  red  fool-fury  of  the  Seine,"  "the  blind  hysterics  of 


THE  AGE  OF  TENxNYSON  —  POETRY  (1S32-1S92)     399 

the  Celt,"  was  repellent  to  his  nature.  The  freedom  that 
he  loved  was  a  democratic  freedom  ;  but  it  was  "  freedom 
in  her  regal  seat  of  England,"  freedom  regulated  by  law. 
In  still  other  ways,  he  was  thoroughly  representative  both 
of  his  age  and  his  country.  He  was  typical  of  the  culture, 
the  refinement,  and  the  intellectual  freedom  of  his  time. 
His  patriotism,  his  conservatism,  his  love  of  liberty,  were 
in  harmony  with  the  underlying  sentiment  of  the  England 
of  Victoria.  More  than  any  other  English  poet,  he  had 
an  instinctive  j^erception  of  the  essential  character  of  the 
age.  More  than  any  other,  he  was  fitted  to  express  its 
manifold  life  and  thought. 

Tennyson's  poetic  genius  may  best  be  defined  and  illus- 
trated by  comparison  with  that  of  Browning.     They  stand 
at  opposite  poles  of  poetry  and  of  life.     If  we 
should    attempt  to  condense  this  contrast  into  and  Brown- 
briefest  terms,  we  might  characterize  the  two  as 
respectively  artist  and  thinker.     These  words  do  not  tell 
us  everything ;  but  they  suggest  what  is  central  in  each. 
Browning  has  much  of  the  artist's  temperament  and  skill ; 
but  above  all  other  things,  he  is  a  thinker  expressing  truth 
in  imaginative  forms.     Tennyson  is  gifted  with  a  master's 
strength  and  fineness  of  thought;  but  he  is  preeminently 
an   artist  in   language.     This  fundamental  difference  be- 
tween the  two  men  appears  at  every  point  and  manifests 
itself  in  a  great  variety  of  ways. 

Tennyson  was  essentially  a  poetic  artist.     This  means, 
first  of  all,  that  he  was  endowed  with  that  exquisite  sense 
of  beauty  which  lies  at  the  very  heart  of  the  sense  ot 
poet's  nature.     With  his   own  Lotos-Eaters,  he   beauty 
can  feel  the  seductive  charm  of  that  enchanted  land 

In  which  it  .seemiid  always  afternoon. 
He  confesses  to  us  that  he  is  one 

Wliose  spirits  falter  in  the  mist, 
And  languish  for  the  jjiiiple  scaa. 


400  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (i 832-1 892) 

Yet  this  sense  of  beauty  in  him  is  exalted  by  the  spirit  of 
an  intense  and  lofty  ideality.  He  is  thrilled  by  the  beauty 
of  that  immortal  courage  which  sent  the  Light  Brigade 
"into  the  mouth  of  Hell  "  at  Balaklava.  He  feels  through 
all  his  soul  the  beauty  of  Arthur's  royal  manhood  and  of 
Galahad's  stainless  chivalry.  He  adds  a  whiteness  to  the 
virgin  snow  in  his  picture  of  St.  Agnes,  the  bride  of 
Christ,  who  cries : 

Break  up  the  heavens,  O  Lord  !  and  far, 

Thro'  all  yon  starlight  keen, 
Draw  me,  thy  bride,  a  glittering  star, 

In  raiment  white  and  clean. 

Tennyson    possessed   also    in   fulness  of   measure   that 
other  essential  gift  of  the  poet — imagination.     The  clear- 
ness and  picturesqueness  of  his  conceptions  is 

Imagination       ,  ,  .  ry,,  i       •  i  .1 

beyond  praise.  They  are  as  lucid  as  the  morn- 
ing, as  distinct  and  vivid  as  noonday  shadows.  Yet  withal, 
this  imagination  can  carry  us  out  into  the  realms  of  spirit- 
ual suggestion  which  lie  beyond  all  earthly  images.  What 
could  be  at  once  more  powerful,  more  vivid,  and  more 
suggestive  than  such  words  as  these  : 

A  still  salt  pool,  lock'd  in  with  bars  of  sand ; 

Left  on  the  shore  ;  that  hears  all  night 
The  plunging  seas  draw  backward  from  the  land 

Their  moon-led  waters  white. 

He  possessed  also  that  breadth  of  imagination  which  some 
have  been  inclined  to  deny  him.  Surely  there  is  range 
between  The  Miller  s  Daughter  and  TJie  Lady  of  Shalott, 
between  Enoch  Ardefi  and  Tfie  Idylls  of  the  Khig. 

It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  he  is  lacking  in  the 
poet's  passion.     Yet  surely  this,  too,   is  a  mistake.     He 
has  not  the  vehement  emotion  of  a  Byron  or  a 
Emotion  Bums ;  his  is  rather  the  full,  deep  stream   of 

Wordsworth  which  flows  with  none  the  less  power  because 
it  is  broad  and  still.     That  he  is  a  master  of  pathos,  who 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  POETRY  (1832-1892)     401 

can  doubt  that  has  read  Guinevere  or  Enoch  Ardcn  or  /;/ 
Memoriam  f  That  he  is  full  of  manly  vigor  and  of  patri- 
otic fervor,  we  may  feel  in  his  war-songs,  in  the  Ode  on 
the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  in  his  ballad  of 
The  Revenge.  That  he  can  portray  the  passion  of  love,  is 
manifest  beyond  all  question  in  The  Princess  and  Maud. 
The  latter  rises  even  to  that  vehement  intensity  so  im- 
pressive to  the  common  mind.  Its  opening  line  strikes 
the  passion  note  of  the  poem  : 

I  hate  the  dreadful  hollow  behind  the  little  wood 

Still  other  and  stranger  notes  are  struck  in  such  poems  as 
The  Tiuo  J  "oices  and  RizpaJt.  Ves,  he  is  a  poet  whose  pas- 
sion has  fulness,  depth,  range,  and  at  times  intensity.  What 
to  some  critics  seems  like  a  limitation,  but  what  to  the 
great  sound  heart  of  humanity  will  always  seem  a  part  of 
his  highest  glory,  is  the  fact  that  the  whole  strength  of  his 
emotion  is  directed  toward  the  good  and  true  and  against  the 
false  and  base.  Poetry  to  him  was  no  mere  toy  or  lu.xury, 
but  one  of  the  great  forces  of  life.  It  has  its  immortal  de- 
light, but  it  has  also  its  eternal  duty.  Both  sides  of  his 
conception  appear  in  his  own  description  of  the  poet's 
character  and  mission  : 

The  poet  in  a  golden  clime  was  born, 

With  golden  stars  above ; 
Dower'd  with  the  hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn, 

The  love  of  love. 

It  is  difficult  to  speak  in  measured  terms  of  Tennyson  as 
a  master  of  form.  In  nearly  all  his  work  there  is  a  most 
exquisite  perception  of  the  harmony  between  thought  and 
language.  He  had  a  wonderful  ear  for  the 
music  of  verse,  a  wonderful  eye  for  artistic 
effects  of  form  and  color.  Hardly  any  j)oet  is  his  supe- 
rior in  ease  and  versatility  of  style.  Not  alone  in  details 
was  he  a  perfect  master  of  his  art ;  he  possessed  also  that 


402  DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE    (i  832-1 892) 

fine  sense  of  unity  and  proportion  which  can  build  up 
great  and  elaborate  masterpieces.  Tennyson  was  a  poet 
born  ;  but  he  was  also  a  poet  made.  No  man  ever  set  him- 
self more  deliberately  and  persistently  to  self-culture  in  the 
technique  of  poetic  art.  He  made  himself  so  perfect  a 
craftsman  that,  when  his  passion  began  to  grow  and  his 
experience  of  life  to  deepen,  he  uttered  his  thought  and 
his  emotion  with  the  voice  of  a  trained  singer.  So  flawless 
is  his  work,  even  when  he  is  most  profoundly  stirred,  that 
in  any  other  man  such  perfection  would  have  savored  of 
affectation  and  insincerity.  The  evidences  of  this  perfect 
art  are  everywhere  in  his  poetry  —  almost  in  every  line 
that  he  has  written.  Who  can  forget  the  enchanted  music 
of  The  Lady  of  SJialott  or  the  luxurious  cadences  of  TJie 
Lotos-Eaters  ?  The  songs  of  The  Princess  ring  in  our  ears 
with  echoes  as  from 

The  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing. 
Now  it  is  the  song  of  TJie  Brook  : 

I  sHp,  I  slide,  I  gloom,  I  glance, 

Among  my  skimming  swallows  ; 
I  make  the  netted  svmbeam  dance 

Against  my  sandy  shallows. 

I  murmur  under  moon  and  stars 

In  brambly  wildernesses ; 
I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars  ; 

I  loiter  round  my  cresses. 

Now  it  is  the  sublime  lamentation  for  Wellington  : 

Bury  the  Great  Duke 

With  an  empire's  lamentation, 
Let  us  bury  the  Great  Duke 

To  the  noise  of  the  mourning  of  a  mighty  nation. 

Now  it  is  the  melodious  cry  of  In  Memoriam ;  and  now 

the  description   of  that   "  last  weird  battle  in  the  west " 

where  Arthur  falls  with  all  his  chivalry  : 

So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  rolled 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter  sea. 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSOxN  —  POETRY  (1832-1892)    403 

The  Idylls  of  the  King  remind  us  that  Tennyson  was  a 
romantic  poet ;  but  he  was  not  forgetful  of  real  life,  as  we 
may  see  in  Dora  and  The  Miller  s  Daughter  and  Range  of 
in  many  another  poem.  We  are  reminded  also  *^*"'"^ 
that  his  genius  was  largely  idyllic  —  that  it  delighted  in 
the  purely  picturesque.  His  lyric  poetry  is  not  less  perfect; 
and  it  is  perhaps  in  some  of  his  shorter  lyrics  that  we  find  the 
distilled  essence  of  his  poetic  genius.  In  the  drama  he  dis- 
plays great  powers  and  great  limitations.  We  may  be  sure 
that  his  best  work  does  not  lie  there  ;  for  neither  he  nor  his 
age  possessed  in  large  measure  the  dramatic  spirit.  If  he  had 
given  us  only  his  dramas,  we  might  cherish  them  as  among 
our  dearest  treasures ;  but  he  has  elsewhere  given  us  what 
is  better  still.  Tennyson's  poetic  interest  was  divided  be- 
tween nature  and  humanity.  He  was  not  exclusively  the 
poet  of  one  or  the  other.  What  is  more  typical  of  him  is 
that  he  was  everywhere  the  poet  of  culture  and  morality. 
No  poetry  is  more  truly  refined ;  no  poetry  makes  more 
for  essential  righteousness.  And  what  a  devotion  to  his 
art  and  to  all  that  it  implies.  He  takes  himself  seriously  as 
a  poet,  if  ever  a  man  did ;  he  lives  the  part  to  perfection. 
We  shall  not  easily  discover  hini  "without  his  singing 
robes  and  garland  on."  He  dies  with  his  finger  between 
the  pages  of  Shakespeare's  Cymbelinc  at  the  song  ending 
with  words  that  might  have  been  his  own  epitaph  : 

Quiet  consummation  have ; 
And  renowned  be  thy  grave  ! 

Much  of  Tennyson's  poetry  stands  simply  for  his  en- 
thusiastic interest  in  his  poetic  art  and  illustrates  his  con- 
ception of  the  significance  of  that  art.  Many  His  Art 
of  his  earliest  poems  are  simi)ly  exquisitely  ^"'"^ 
beautiful  poetical  exercises,  without  other  significance  than 
their  melody  and  sensuous  charm.  Others,  like  The  Poet 
and  The  Poet's  Mind,  show  his  sense  of  the  poet's  place 


404  DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

and  mission.  TJie  Lady  of  Ska  lot  t  symbolizes  allegorically 
the  artist's  aloofness  from  the  world,  taking  no  part  in  its 
activities,  but  reflecting  it  with  loving  sympathy  in  the 
magic  mirror  of  the  imagination  and  weaving  the  vision 
into  the  magic  web  of  poetry.  The  Palace  of  Art  shoves 
the  curse  that  falls  on  the  beauty-loving  soul  that  cuts 
itself  off  utterly  from  its  kind  and  shuts  itself  up  to  its 
own  selfish  enjoyment.  Such  poems  are  symbolical  of 
one  side  of  Tennyson's  nature.  Their  spirit  does  not  die 
out  of  his  poetry,  even  to  the  end,  but  his  genius  becomes 
ever  deeper  and  broader. 

Somewhat  akin  to  such  works  as  these,  at  least  in  their 
inspiration,  are  his  poems  on  classical  themes — finely 
Broadening  conccivcd  and  wonderfully  executed  specimens 
Range  of    poctic    workmanship.     CEnone,     The   Lotos- 

Eaters  ^  Lucretius,  Tithonus,  are  all  admirable  in  their 
diverse  ways ;  but  his  masterpiece  in  this  kind  is  Ulysses. 
Chaste  in  style,  felicitous  in  expression,  noble  in  concep- 
tion, it  takes  rank  among  his  most  perfect  works.  Strongly 
contrasted  with  this  classical  taste,  and  serving  to  illustrate 
the  poet's  increasing  breadth,  are  his  poems  dealing  with 
common  English  life.  Among  the  earliest  of  these  are 
The  Miller  s  Daughter  and  Dora.  The  finest  example  of 
all  is  his  famous  and  popular  Enoch  Arden.  Later  came 
his  interesting  dialect  studies,  like  TJie  Northern  Farmer 
and  TJie  Northern  Cobbler.  These  indicate  an  interest  in 
common  life  and  also  a  patriotic  spirit  which  is  still  further 
illustrated  by  specifically  patriotic  poems  like  The  Charge 
of  the  Light  Brigade,  The  Revenge,  and  the  Ode  on  the 
Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Other  phases  of  his 
genius  must  be  illustrated  by  some  of  his  longer  poems 
and  by  the  poems  written  toward  the  close  of  his  life. 

The  Princess  is  a  fanciful  poem  which  Tennyson  properly 
called  a  medley.  It  deals  with  the  modern  woman  ques- 
tion under  the  guise  of  a  fantastic  story  about  the  found- 


THE  AGE  OF  TENNYSON  —  TOETRV  (1S32-1892)  405 

ing  of  a  woman's  college  and  the  breaking  up  of  the  scheme 
through  certain  love  intrigues.  The  poem  is  not  The  Princess 
altogether  a  successful  achievement,  although  """^  **""<* 
it  is  filled  with  beautiful  music  and  imagery  and  inter- 
spersed with  some  of  his  most  exquisite  lyrics.  It  is 
interesting  as  showing  Tennyson's  growing  disposition 
to  consider  the  serious  problems  of  his  time.  Somewhat 
the  same  may  be  said  of  Maud,  one  of  the  most  peculiar 
of  his  poems.  It  is  a  poem  of  passionate  love,  madness, 
and  despair,  gloomy  but  splendid.  Its  finer  quality  is 
marred  by  a  tone  of  almost  pessimistic  satire  against  the 
baser  spirit  of  the  age. 

In  Mevioriavi  is  a  great  elegy,  inspired  by  the  early 
death  of  Tennyson's  intimate  and  beloved  friend  Arthur 
Hallam.  Simply  in  its  character  as  an  elegy, 
it  is  a  marvelous  poem,  passionate  with  a  heart-  ^"  Memonam 
breaking  sorrow,  and  rich  with  all  the  powers  of  expression 
of  a  great  poet.  It  is  vastly  more,  however,  than  a  simple 
elegy  ;  it  is  the  great  poetic  record  of  Tennyson's  spiritual 
struggle  with  the  demons  of  doubt  and  despair.  Through  a 
long  series  of  lyrics  bound  together  by  their  association 
with  the  one  central  theme,  we  may  trace  the  various  phases 
of  the  poet's  personal  grief  and  witness  his  grapple  with 
the  sternest  problems  of  human  existence.  The  real 
theme  of  the  poem  is  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  and  the 
poet's  final  victory  is  based  on  the  passionate  conviction 
that  such  a  love  as  his  is  and  must  be  immortal.  If  the 
pure  reason  can  give  him  no  satisfaction,  he  hears  at  least 
the  answer  of  the  heart. 

If  e'er  when  faith  had  fall'n  asleep, 

I  heard  a  voice  "  believe  no  more  " 
And  heard  an  ever-breaking  shore 

That  tumbled  in  tlic  (lodle.ss  deep  ; 

A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  i)art. 


406  DEMOCRACY    AND    SCIENCE    (1832-1892) 

And  like  a  man  in  wrath  the  heart 
Stood  up  and  answer'd  "  I  have  felt." 

He  concludes  his  "  high  argument "  with  an  expression  of 
faith  in 

That  God,  which  ever  hves  and  loves, 
One. God,  one  law,  one  element, 
And  one  far-off  divine  event, 
To  which  the  whole  creation  moves. 

In  the  Idylls  of  the  King,  Tennyson  deals  as  a  true  ro- 
mantic poet  with  the  great  matter  of  the  Arthurian  legends, 
Idylls  of  the  ^°  often  handled  in  English  literature,  but 
King  never  more  beautifully  than  here.    The  "  Idylls  " 

are  a  series  of  twelve  picturesque  narratives,  written  in- 
dependently at  different  times  in  Tennyson's  career  and 
later  combined  into  a  single  great  work.  In  his  hands,  the 
old  mediaeval  legends  are  modernized  into  a  great  spiritual 
parable.  We  see  Arthur,  the  noble  guide  and  leader  of 
men,  coming  to  his  kingdom  ;  we  see  that  kingdom  grow- 
ing in  beauty  and  power  under  his  mild  and  wise  sway  ;  we 
see  everything  brought  to  moral  ruin  by  the  sin  of  Lance- 
lot and  Guinevere  ;  we  see  Arthur  finally  overthrown  in  his 
"  last  weird  battle  in  the  west  "  and  passing  to  his  place 
among  the  dead.  It  is  the  failure  of  spiritual  dominion  in 
a  world  too  gross  for  such  high  ideals.  The  meaning  of 
the  great  and  beautiful  poem  cannot  be  better  expressed 
than  in  Tennyson's  own  words,  when  he  calls  it 

This  old  imperfect  tale, 
New-old,  and  shadowing  Sense  at  war  with  Soul. 

In  his  later  life,  Tennyson,  while  never  ceasing  to  be  the 

true  and  finished  artist,  showed  a  disposition  to  draw  still 

closer  to  real  life  and  to  its  profounder  problems. 

La,test  W^ork 

He  wrote  his  great  dramas,  beginning  with 
Queen  Mary,  and  including  such  noble  works  as  Harold 
and  Becket.  While  they  were  not  altogether  successful  as 
acting  plays,  they  are  finely  poetical  and  show  genuine 


THE  AGE  OF  TEXXYSON  —  POETRY  (1S32-1892)    407 

insight  into  life  and  character.  Some  of  his  later  poems 
are  nither  gloomy  in  tone,  impressing  us  with  a  sense  of 
failure  and  disillusion  concerning  the  great  movements  of 
the  age  and  concerning  human  progress.  Yet  toward  the 
last  comes  a  high  and  serene  mood  of  faith  in  that  supreme 
power  which  is  guiding  "  the  whole  creation  "  toward  the 
"one  far-off  divine  event,"  and  which  holds  all  individual 
souls  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  In  TJic  Making  of  Ma)i, 
he  says : 

Man  as  yet  is  being  made,  and  ere  the  crowning  Age  of  ages, 
Shall  not  zeon  after  aon  pass  and  touch  him  into  shape  ? 

In  FaitJi,  he  cries  : 

Doubt  no  longer  that  the  Highest  is  the  wisest  and  the  best. 

In  The  Silent  Voices,  he  sings  : 

Call  me  rather,  silent  voices, 
Fonvard  to  the  starry  track 
Glimmering  up  the  heights  beyond  nie 
On,  and  always  on  ! 

Crossing  the  Bar,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  poems  that 
he  ever  wrote,  closes  with  this  splendid  expression  of 
personal  faith  and  courage : 

For  tho'  from  out  our  bourne  of  Time  and  Place 

The  flood  may  bear  me  far, 
I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face 

When  I  have  crost  the  bar. 

Such  words  are  fitting  close  to  the  brief  record  of  a 
great  career,  of  a  great  century,  and  of  a  great  literature. 


APPENDIX 


4IO 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE   OF 


so 
SO 

o 

I 
as 


Q 
O 

s 

w 

Oh 

o 

X 

< 

I 

o 

o 
< 


O 

» 

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o 
.2 

X 

o 
1 

O) 

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o 
o 

w 

Translations    of     Gregory,     Bede, 

Boethius,  and  Orosius 
Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle.     See  text, 

pp.  29,  30  and  33,  34 
Blickling  Homilies  (c.  971) 
Homilies,  Lives  of  the  Saints,  etc. 
Homilies 

ApoUonius  of  Tyre 
Later  Chronicle  (to  1154) 

Pi 

o 

Ph 

Charms  (portions) 

WidsiS 

Lament  of  Deor 

Fight  at  Finnsburg 

Waldhere 

Beowulf 

Hymn,  etc.     See  text,  pp.  16-19 

Ctedmonian  Paraphrase 

Death  Song 

Judith,  etc. 

Ruthwell  Cross  inscription 

Elegies.     See  text,  p.  21 

Elene,  etc.     See  text,  pp.  22,  23 

Andreas,   The  Phoenix,    Dream  of   the 

Rood,  etc. 
Other    poems    in    Exeter   and   Vercelli 

Books 

Battle  of  Brunanburh  (937) 
Battle  of  Maldon  (991) 

CO 

O 
X 
H 

< 

Caedmon                          c  670-680 
Bede                                    672-735 

Cynewulf                     c.  7S0-C.800 

Alfred                                 848-901 

JEliric                         c.  955-c.  1025 
Wulfstan                               d.  1023 

A-axaod  Kvovd 

\L9-0L9 

A-axaod  NVIXSIHH3  ■ 

990I-Ii8 

aomad  asoid 

ENGLISH    LITERATURE 


411 


o 
o 


o 


Zj 
-J 


u 

en 

0 
06 

Later  A.  .S.  Chronicle  (ends  1 154) 

Homilies  and  Lives  of  the  Saints 
Ancren  Riwle  (c.  1225; 

Religious  writings 
Ayenbite  of  Inwit 

Mandeville's  Travels 

J 

u 

s 

0 

g 

V 

3 

e 
.2 

1 

u 

3 
< 

> 

1 

Pdima  Morale  (before  1200) 

Hrul (c.  1205) 

Ormulum  (c.  1215) 

Cicnesis  and  Kxodus         Bestiary 

Owl  and  Nightingale          Lyric  Poems 

Sir  Tristrem,  llavclok  the    L)ane,  King 

Horn,  etc. 
Chronicle  (c.  1298) 
Cycles  of  Romance 

Bevis  of  llampti)n,  Guy  of  Warwick,  etc. 
Handlynge  Synne  (1303) 
Cursor  Nlundi  (c.  1325) 
Pricke  of  Conscience  (c.  1335) 

Political  Lyrics  (1333-1352) 

Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Grcne  Knight 

The  Pearl,  Cleanness,  Patience 

Vision  of  Piers  the  Plowman 
Confessio  Amantis,  etc. 
Canterbury  Tales,  etc. 

Gouvernail  of  Princes,  etc. 

Falles  of  Princes,  etc. 

The  King's  Quair 

Fables,  etc. 

Thistle  and  the  Rose,  etc. 

Palice  of  Honour,  ..^neid,  etc. 

Ballads 

Mysteries,  Miracle  Plays,  Moralities 

U3 

0 

S 
H 

< 

Layamon 
Orm 

Robert  of  Gloucester 

Robert  Manning 

Richard  Rolle 
Dan  Michel 
Laurence  Minot 

John  Wyclif                      1324-13S4 
Wm.  Langland         c.  1332-c.  1400 
John  Gower                   c.  1 330-1408 
Geoffrey  Chaucer          c.  1340-1400 

Thomas  Occleve       c.  1365-c.  1454 

JohnLydgate             c.  1370-c.  1440 

James  I  of  Scotland         1394-1437 

Robert  Henryson 

William  Dunbar 

Gawain  Douglas       c.  1474-c.  1522 

Sir  Thomas  Malory 

09EI  9901 

ooi'Logei 
hh.).ivh::) 

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LO   LO  UO  U^  U->  LO  LO 

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414 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE   OF 


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All  for  Love,  etc. 
Venice  Preserved,  etc. 
The  Plain-Dealer,  etc. 
The  Confederacy,  etc. 
Love  for  Love,  etc. 
The  Beaux'  Stratagem,  etc. 

Cato,  etc. 

The  Conscious  Lovers,  etc. 

Pamela,  etc. 
Tom  Jones,  etc. 

Tristram  Shandy 
Humphrey  Clinker,  etc. 
Vicar  of  Wakefield 
Rasselas 

School  for  Scandal,  etc. 

w 

en 
O 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  etc. 

Essays 
Essays 

Gulliver's  Travels,  etc. 
Periodical  Essays 
Periodical  Essays 
Robinson  Crusoe,  etc. 

Journals,  Letters,  etc. 

Sentimental  Journey,  etc. 

Essays,  etc. 

Lives  of  the  Poets,  etc. 
History  of  England,  etc. 
Roman  Empire,  etc. 
Speeches,  etc. 

> 
Pi 

2 

Poems  and  Satires 
Hudibras 

Satires,  Lyrics,  etc. 

Poems 

The  Campaign,  etc. 

Poems 
Poems 
Satires,  Poems 

The  Seasons,  etc. 
Night  Thoughts 

Poems 

Elegy,  Odes,  etc. 

Poems,  etc. 

Deserted  Village,  etc. 
Vanity  of  Human  Wishes, 
[etc. 

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Wm.  Congreve 
Geo.  Farquhar 

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John  Gay 
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READING  AND  STUDY  LIST 

HISTORY 

Gardiner's  Student's  History  of  England. 

Terry's  History  of  England. 

Cireen's  Short  History  of  the  English  People. 

Green's  History  of  the  English  People  (four  volumes). 

Traill's  Social  England. 

Lord's  Beacon  Lights  of  History. 

Green's  Making  of  England. 

Green's  Conquest  of  England. 

Rhys's  Celtic  Britain. 

Grant  Allen's  Anglo-Saxon  Britain. 

York-Powell's  Early  England  to  the  Norman  Conquest. 

Freeman's  Old  English  History. 

Freeman's  Norman  Conquest. 

Jewett's  Story  of  the  Normans. 

Stubbs's  Early  Plantagenets. 

Hutton's  King  and  Baronage. 

Warburton's  Edward  the  Third. 

Jusserand's  English  Wayfaring  Life  in  the  Fourteenth  Century. 

Gairdner's  Houses  of  Lancaster  and  York. 

Moberly's  Early  Tudors. 

Creighton's  Tudors  and  the  Reformation. 

Creighton's  Age  of  Elizabeth. 

Gardiner's  The  First  Two  Stuarts  and  the  Puritan  Revolution. 

Seebohm's  Era  of  the  Protestant  Revolution. 

Airy's  English  Restoration  and  Louis  XIV. 

Hale's  Fall  of  the  Stuarts. 

Macaulay's  History    of   England  (from  accession    of  James  H  to  death  o( 
William  HI). 

I-ecky's  History  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 

Stephen's  History  of  English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 

Morris's  Age  of  Anne. 

Morris's  Early  Hanoverians. 

Wright's  England  umler  the  House  of  Hanover. 

Thackeray's  The  Four  Georges. 

I'aul's  History  of  .Modern  England. 

McCarthy's  History  of  the  People  of  England  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

4'7 


4l8  READING   AND   STUDY   LIST 

McCarthy's  Epoch  of  Reform  (1830-1850). 
McCarthy's  History  of  Our  Own  Times. 

LANGUAGE 

Lounsbury's  English  Language. 

Emerson's  Brief  History  of  the  English  Language. 

Greenough  and  Kittredge's  Words  and  Their  Ways  in  English  Speech. 

Bradley's  Making  of  English. 

LITERATURE 

General. 

Saintsbury's  Short  History  of  English  Literature. 

Garnett    and  Gosse's    English    Literature:     An    Illustrated    Record    (four 

volumes). 
Taine's  History  of  English  Literature. 
Welsh's  Development  of  English  Literature. 
Phillips's  History  of  English  Literature. 
Mitchell's  English  Lands,  Letters,  and  Kings. 
Ryland's  Chronological  Outlines  of  English  Literature. 
MacLean's  Chart  of  English  Literature. 
Chambers's  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature. 
Moulton's  Library  of  Literary  Criticism. 
Brewer's  Reader's  Handbook. 

Periods  and  Departments. 

Brooke's  History  of  Early  English  Literature. 

Brooke's  English  Literature  from  the  Beginning  to  the  Norman  Conquest. 
Schofield's  English  Literature  from  the  Norman  Conquest  to  Chaucer. 
Ten  Brink's  History  of  English  Literature  (to  the  death  of  Surrey). 
Jusserand's   Literary  History  of  the  English  People  from  the  Origins  to 

the  Renaissance. 
Morley's  English  Writers  (eleven  volumes  —  to  seventeenth  century). 
Courthope's  History  of  English  Poetry. 
Gummere's  Old  English  Ballads. 
Ward's  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature  to  the  Death  of  Queen 

Anne  (new  edition,  1899). 
Brander  Matthews's  Development  of  the  Drama. 
Snell's  The  Fourteenth  Century  (Periods  of  European  Literature). 
Snell's  Age  of  Chaucer. 

Minto's  Manual  of  English  Prose  Literature. 
Minto's  Characteristics  of  English  Poets. 
Beers's  From  Chaucer  to  Tennyson. 
Millar's  Literary  History  of  Scotland. 
Snell's  Age  of  Transition  (1400-1580). 


READING    AxNU    STUDY    LIST  419 

Periods  and  Departments  —  Continued. 

Smith's  The  Transition  Period  (Periods  of  European  Literature). 

Bates's  English  Religious  Drama. 

Einstein's  Italian  Renaissance  in  England. 

Ilannay's  Later  Renaissance  (Periods  of  European  Literature). 

Sidney  Lee's  Great  Englishmen  of  the  Sixteenth  Century. 

Saintsbury's  Elizabethan  Literature  (i 560-1660). 

Hazlitt's  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth. 

Whipple's  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth. 

Cunliffe's  Influence  of  Seneca  on  Elizabethan  Tragedy. 

Schelling's  English  Chronicle  I'lay. 

Schelling's  Elizabethan  Lyrics. 

Symonds's  Shakespeare's  Predecessors  in  the  English  Drama. 

Boas's  Shakspere  and  His  Predecessors. 

Seccombe  and  Allen's  Age  of  .Shakespeare. 

Lowell's  Old  English  Dramatists. 

Fleay's  Chronicle  History  of  the  London  Stage. 

Hazlitt's  Lectures  on  the  English  Poets. 

Hazlitt's  Lectures  on  the  English  Comic  Writers. 

Warren's  The  Novel  Previous  to  the  Seventeenth  Century. 

Jusserand's  English  Novel  in  the  Time  of  Shakespeare. 

Gosse's  From  Shakespeare  to  Pope. 

Gosse's  Jacobean  Poets. 

Gosse's  .Seventeenth  Century  Studies. 

Wendell's  The  Temper  of  Seventeenth  Century  Literature. 

Masterman's  .\ge  of  Milton. 

Dowden's  Puritan  and  Anglican. 

Garnett's  Age  of  Dryden. 

Chase's  The  English  Heroic  Play. 

Macaulay's  E.ssay  on  the  Comic  Dramatists  of  the  Restoration. 

Gosse's  F^ighteenth  Century  Literature  (1660-1780). 

Perr)'s  English  Literature  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 

Dennis's  .\gc  of  Pope. 

Thackeray's  English  Humorists. 

Dunlop's  History  of  Fiction. 

Tuckerman's  History  of  Prose  Fiction. 

Simonds's  Introfluction  to  Prose  Fiction. 

Stoddard's  Evolution  of  the  English  Novel. 

Cross's  Development  of  the  English  Novel. 

I^nicr'sThe  English  Novel. 

Raleigh's  The  I!nglish  Novel. 

Masson's  British  Novelists  an<l  Their  Styles. 

Fornyth's  Novels  and  Novelists  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. 

Minto's  Literature  of  the  Georgian  F!ra. 


420  READING    AND    STUDY    LIST 

Periods  and  Departments  —  Continued. 
Seccombe's  Age  of  Johnson. 

Phelps's  Beginnings  of  the  English  Romantic  Movement. 
Beers's  English  Romanticism  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 
Beers's  English  Romanticism  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
Mrs.  Oliphant's  Literary  History  of  England  in  the  End  of  the  Eighteenth 

and  Beginning  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
Saintsbury's  Nineteenth  Century  Literature  (1780-1895). 
Dowden's  French  Revolution  and  English  Literature. 
Dowden's  Studies  in  Literature,  1 789-1887. 
Woodberry's  Makers  of  Literature. 
Shairp's  Poetic  Interpretation  of  Nature. 
Shairp's  Aspects  of  Poetry. 
Herford's  Age  of  Wordsworth. 
Dawson's  Makers  of  Modern  English. 

Jack's  Essays  on  the  Novel  as  Illustrated  by  Scott  and  Miss  Austen. 
Forster's  Great  Teachers. 
Harrison's  Early  Victorian  Literature. 
Morley's  Literature  in  the  Age  of  Victoria. 
Mrs.  Oliphant's  Victorian  Age  of  English  Literature. 
Walker's  Age  of  Tennyson. 
Walker's  Greater  Victorian  Poets. 
Stedman's  Victorian  Poets. 
Sharp's  Victorian  Poets.  ' 

Brownell's  Victorian  Prose  Masters. 

Bayne's  Lessons  from  My  Masters  (Carlyle,  Tennyson,  Ruskin). 
Cooke's  Poets  and  Problems  (Tennyson,  Ruskin,  Browning). 
Hutton's  Modern  Guides  of  English  Thought  in  Matters  of  Faith  (Carlyle, 

Arnold,  George  Eliot), 
Forman's  Our  Living  Poets. 
Brooke's  Theology  in  the  English  Poets. 
Scudder's  Life  of  the  Spirit  in  the  Modern  Enghsh  Poets. 
Scudder's  Social  Ideals  in  English  Letters. 

Individual  Authors  and  Works. 
Dictionary  of  National  Biography. 

Enghsh  Men  of  Letters  Series — contains  lives  of  Chaucer,  Sidney,  Spenser, 
Bacon,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Milton,  Bunyan,  Marvell,  Hobbes,  Locke,  Dryden, 
Bentley,  Swift,  Addison,  Defoe,  Pope,  Richardson,  Fielding,  Gray, 
Sterne,  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Hume,  Gibbon,  Burke,  Sheridan,  Fanny 
Burney,  Cowper,  Crabbe,  Burns,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Scott,  Southey, 
Lamb,  Byron,  Moore,  Shelley,  Keats,  Landor,  De  Quincey,  Sydney 
Smith,  Hazlitt,  Macaulay,  Carlyle,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  George  Eliot, 
Browning,  Tennyson,  Fitzgerald,  Arnold,  Ruskin,  Rossetti. 


READING   AND   STLDY    LIST  42 1 

iNDniDUAi.  Authors  axd  Works  —  Continued. 

Great  Writers  Series  —  contains  lives  of  Milton,  Bunyan.  Congreve,  Smol- 
lett, Cloldsmith,  Johnson,  Adam  Smith,  Sheridan,  Crabbe,  Burns,  Cole- 
ridge, Scott,  Jane  Austen,  Byron,  Shelley,  Keats,  Leigh  Hunt,  Charlotte 
Bronte,  Marryat,  Mill,  Carlyle,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  Darwin,  George 
Eliot,  Browning,  Rossetti. 

De  Quincey  has  essays  on  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Pope,  Goldsmith,  Coleridge, 
Wordsworth,  Southey,  Lamb,  etc.  (Literary  and  Lake  Reminiscences, 
Biographies,  etc.)  • 

Macaulay  has  essays  on  Bacon,  Milton,  Bunyan,  Drj-dcn,  Temple,  Addison, 
Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Byron,  Leigh  Hunt,  etc. 
(  Essaj-s). 

Carlyle  has  essays  on  Shakespeare,  Johnson,  Burns,  and  Scott  (Heroes  and 
Hero-Worship,  Elssays). 

Lowell  has  essays  on  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Walton, 
Dryden,  Pope,  Gray,  Fielding,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Keats,  Carlyle, 
Swinburne,  etc.  (My  Study  Windows,  Among  My  Books,  Literary 
Essays). 

Leslie  Stephen  has  essays  on  Shakespeare,  Donne,  Milton,  Pope,  Defoe, 
Richardson,  Johnson,  Gibbon,  Godwin,  Wordsworth,  Scott,  Southey,  De 
Quincey,  Trollope,  Browning,  Tennyson,  Ruskin,  Arnold,  Stevenson,  etc. 
(Hours  in  a  Library,  Studies  of  a  Biographer). 

Swinburne  has  essays  on  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  Webster,  Wither,  Ford,  Merrick,  Milton,  Congreve,  William 
Collins,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Scott,  Lamb,  Byron,  Shelley,  Keats, 
Lanflor,  Emily  Bronte,  Charles  Reade,  Tennyson,  Arnold,  Wilkie  Collins, 
Rossetti,  Morris,  etc.  (Miscellanies,  Essays  and  Studies,  Studies  in 
Prose  and  Poetry). 

Bagehot's  Literary  .Studies  (Shakespeare,  Milton,  Sterne,  Gibbon,  Cowper, 
Wordsworth,  Scott,  .Shelley,  Macaulay,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  Clough, 
Browning,  Tennyson). 

Dowden's  Transcripts  and  Studies  (Marlowe,  .Spenser,  .Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Wordsworth,  Shelley,  Carlyle,  Browning,  N'ictorian   Literature). 

Pater's  Appreciations  (Shakespeare,  Thomas  Browne,  Wordsworth,  Cole- 
ridge, Lamb,  Rossetti). 

Plummer's  Life  and  Times  of  King  .\lfreil  the  Great. 

Bcsant's  Story  of  King  Alfreil. 

Le  Bas'«  Life  of  John  Wyclif. 

5>crgeanl's  John  Wyclif. 

Jus.serand's  Piers  Plowman. 

Loun.sbury'»  Studies  in  Chaucer. 

Saunders's  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Talcs. 

Hcmpl's  Chaucer's  Pronunciation. 

Jusserand's  Romance  of  a  King's  Life  (James  I  of  Scotland). 


422  READING   AND    STUDY   LIST 

Individual  Authors  and  Works  —  Continued. 
Lovett's  Demaus's  Life  of  Tindale. 
Davis's  Life  and  Times  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney. 
Bourne's  Life  of  Sidney, 

Carpenter's  Outline  Guide  to  the  Study  of  Spenser. 
Childs's  John  Lyiy  and  Euphuism. 
Sidney  Lee's  Life  of  Shakespeare. 
Brandes's  William  Shakespeare. 
Victor  Hugo's  William  Shakespeare. 

Wendell's  William  Shakspere,  a  Study  in  Elizabethan  Literature 
Goldvvin  Smith's  Shakespeare  the  Man. 
Mabie's  William  Shakespeare  :  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man. 
Rolfe's  Shakespeare  the  Boy. 

Emerson's  Shakespeare,  or  the  Poet  (Representative  Men). 
Dovvden's  Shakspere :   His  Mind  and  Art. 
Swinburne's  A  Study  of  Shakespeare. 
Lounsbury's  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist. 
Moulton's  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist. 
Moulton's  Moral  System  of  Shakespeare. 
Ulrici's  Shakespeare's  Dramatic  Art. 
Gervinus's  Shakespeare  Commentaries. 
Hudson's  Life,  Art,  and  Characters  of  Shakespeare. 
Coleridge's  Notes  and  Lectures  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 
White's  Studies  in  Shakespeare. 
Collins's  Studies  in  Shakespeare. 
Bradley's  Shakespearean  Tragedy. 
Brooke's  On  Ten  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 
Ten  Brink's  Five  Lectures  on  Shakespeare. 
Hazlitt's  Characters  of  Shakespeare's  Plays. 
Mrs.  Jameson's  Characteristics  of  Women. 
Mary  Covi'den  Clarke's  Girlhood  of  Shakespeare's  Heroines. 
Corson's  Introduction  to  Shakespeare. 
Dowden's  Introduction  to  Shakspere. 
Gollancz's  Shakespearean  Primer. 
Stone's  Shakespeare's  Holinshed. 
Dowden's  Shakspere's  Sonnets. 
Beeching's  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare. 
Brown's  Shakespeare's  Versification. 
Bartlett's  Shakespeare  Concordance. 
Clarke's  Concordance  to  Shakespear 
Abbott's  Shakespearean  Grammar. 
Swinburne's  Study  of  Ben  Jonson. 
Symonds's  Ben  Jonson. 
Schelling's  Ben  Jonson  and  the  Classical  School. 


READING    AND    STUDY    LIST  423 

IxDn'iDUAL  Authors  and  Works  —  Continued. 
Swinburne's  Chapman  :  A  Critical  Study. 
Gosse's  Life  of  Raleigh. 
Edwards's  Life  of  R.^leigh. 
Gosse's  Life  and  Letters  of  John  Donne. 
Spedding's  Francis  Bacon  and  His  Times. 
Nichol's  I-rancis  Bacon:    His  Life  ami  Philosophy. 
Craik's  Bacon:   His  Writings  and  His  rhilosophy. 
Abbott's  Francis  Bacon. 

Palmer's  Life  and  Works  of  George  Herbert. 
Heber's  Life  of  Jeremy  Taylor. 
Gosse's  Life  of  Jeremy  Taylor. 
Masson's  Life  and  Times  of  Milton. 
Stopford  Brooke's  Milton. 
Raleigh's  Life  of  Milton. 

Corson's  Introduction  to  the  Works  of  Milton. 
Brown's  John  Hunyan  :   His  Life,  Times,  and  Work. 
Whyte's  Banyan's  Characters. 
Craik's  Life  of  Swift. 
CoUins's  Life  of  .Swift. 
Aitken's  Life  of  Steele. 
Dolwon's  Life  of  Steele. 
Whittcn's  Life  of  Defoe. 
Wright's  Life  of  Defoe. 
Courthope's  Life  of  Pope. 
Baync's  Life  of  Thomson. 
Thomson's  Life  of  Richardson. 
Wilson's  Life  of  Chatterton. 

Masson's  Essay  on  Chatterton  (Essays,  Biographical  and  Critical). 
Fitzgerald's  Life  of  Sterne. 
Smeaton's  Life  of  Smollett. 
Irving's  Life  of  Goldsmith. 
Forster's  Life  of  Goldsmith. 
Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson. 
Waller's  Boswell  and  Johnson. 
Gibbon's  .\utobiography. 
kac's  Life  of  Sheridan. 
Southcy's  Life  of  Cowper. 
Wright's  Life  of  Cowper. 
Gilchrist's  Life  cf  I'.lake. 
Story's  Life  of  I'.lake. 

Kouctti'i  Memoir  of  Blake  (in  Aldine  Edition  of  his  poems). 
Swinburne*!  William  Blake  :  .\  Critical  Study. 
Henley's  Life  of  Burns. 


424  READING   AND    STUDY   LIST 

Individual  Authors  and  Works  —  Continued. 
Setoun's  Life  of  Burns. 

Stevenson's  Essay  on  Burns  (Familiar  Studies  of  Men  and  Books). 
Knight's  Life  of  William  Wordsworth. 
Arnold's  Introduction  to  Selections  from  Wordsworth. 

Shairp's  Studies  in  Poetry  and  Philosophy  (Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Keble). 
Masson's  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  Keats,  and  Other  Essays. 
Hutton's  Essays  in  Literary  Criticism   (Wordsworth,  Clough,  George  Eliot, 

Arnold). 
Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott. 
Saintsbury's  Life  of  Scott. 
Hudson's  Life  of  Scott. 

Irving's  Abbotsford  and  Newstead  Abbey  (Scott  and  Byron). 
Brandl's  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  and  the  English  Romantic  School. 
Adams's  Life  of  Jane  Austen. 
Pollock's  Jane  Austen. 
Pellew's  Jane  Austen's  Novels. 
Bonnell's  Charlotte  Bronte,    George    Eliot,  and  Jane  Austen  :  Studies  in 

Their  Works. 
Dennis's  Life  of  Southey. 
Lucas's  Life  of  Lamb. 

Fitzgerald's  Life,  Letters,  and  Writings  of  Charles  Lamb. 
Moore's  Life  of  Byron. 

Arnold's  Introduction  to  Selections  from  Byron. 
Hadden's  Life  of  Campbell. 
Symington's  Life  and  Works  of  Moore. 
Dowden's  Life  of  Shelley. 

Brooke's  Introduction  to  Selections  from  Shelley. 
Browning's  Essay  on  Shelley. 
Scudder's  Shelley's  Prometheus  Unbound. 
Ellis's  Shelley  Concordance. 
De  Quincey's  Autobiography. 

DeQuincey's  Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater  (autobiographical). 
Trevelyan's  Life  and  Letters  of  Macaulay. 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte. 

Gates's  Essay  on  Charlotte  Bronte  (Studies  and  Appreciations). 
Life  of  Edward  Bulwer,  Lord  Lytton,  by  his  Son. 
Froude's  Thomas  Carlyle. 
Mead's  Philosophy  of  Carlyle. 

Zapp's  Three  Great  Teachers  of  Our  Time  (Carlyle,  Tennyson,  Ruskin). 
Ingram's  Life  of  Mrs.  Browning. 
Whiting's  Study  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 
Gorst's  Earl  of  Beaconsfield  (B.  Disraeli). 
Brandes's  Lord  Beaconsfield  :  A  Study. 


READLNG   AND   STUDY    LIST  425 

IxDn'iDUAL  Authors  and  Works  —  Continued. 
Hutton's  Cardinal  Newman. 

Jennings's  Cardinal  Newman  :  The  Story  of  His  Life, 
Newman's  Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua  (autobiographical). 
Gates's  Three  Studies  in  Literature  (Jeffrey,  Newman,  Arnold). 
Forster's  Life  of  Charles  Dickens. 
Gissing's  Charles  Dickens:  A  Critical  Study. 
Melville's  Life  of  Thackeray. 
Kaufman's  Life  of  Kingsley. 

Charles  Kingsley  :   His  Letters,  and  Memories  of  His  Life,  by  his  Wife. 
Anthony  Trollope's  Autobiography. 

James's  Partial  Portraits  (George  Kliot,  Trollopc,  Stevenson). 
Cross's  Life  of  George  Eliot. 
Blind's  George  Eliot. 

Cooke's  George  Eliot:  A  Critical  Study  of  Her  Life,  Writings,  and   Phi- 
losophy. 
Brown's  Ethics  of  George  Eliot's  Works. 
Myers's  Essays,  Modern  (George  Eliot,  Rossetti). 
Orr's  Life  and  Letters  of  Browning. 
Waugh's  Life  of  Browning. 
Dowden's  Robert  Browning. 
Herford's  Robert  Browning. 
Brooke's  Poetry  of  Robert  Browning. 
Berdoe's  Browning's  Message  to  His  Times. 
Revell's  Browning's  Criticism  of  Life. 

Jones's  Browning  as  a  Philosophical  and  Religious  Teacher. 
Berdoe's  Browning  and  the  Christian  Faith. 
Corson's  Introduction  to  Browning. 
Symons's  Introduction  to  Browning. 
Alexander's  Introduction  to  Browning. 
Orr's  Handbook  to  the  Works  of  Robert  Browning. 
Cooke's  Browning  Guide-Book. 
Berdoe's  Browning  Cyclopaedia. 

Anne  Thackeray  Ritchie's  Records  of  Tennyson,  Ruskin.  and  Browning. 
Hutton's  Essays,  Theological  and  Literary  (Browning,  Tennyson,  Arnold). 
Alfred  Tennyson  :    A  Memoir,  by  his  Son. 
Jennings's  Life  f)f  Tennyson. 
Wacc's  Life  of  Tennyson. 
Horton's  Life  of  Tennyson. 
Lang's  Life  of  Tennyson. 

Waugh's  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson  :   A  Study  of  His  Life  and  Work. 
Rawnslcy's  Memories  of  the  Tcnnysons. 
Brooke'*  Tennyson :   His  Art  and  Relation  to  Modern  Life. 
Van  Dykc'i  Poetry  of  Tennyson. 


426  READING   AND   STUDY    LIST 

Individual  Authors  and  Works  —  Continued. 
Tainsh's  A  Study  of  Tennyson. 
Masterman's  Tennyson  as  a  Religious  Teacher. 
Luce's  Handbook  to  the  Works  of  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson. 
Dixon's  Primer  of  Tennyson. 

Tennyson's  In  Memoriam,  annotated  by  the  author. 
Robertson's  Analysis  of  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam. 
Genung's  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam:  Its  Purpose  and  Structure. 
Littledale's  Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  King. 

Maccalum's  Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  King  and  Arthurian  Story. 
Dawson's  Study  of  Tennyson's  Princess. 
Dawson's  Matthew  Arnold. 
Saintsbury's  Matthew  Arnold. 
Russell's  Life  of  Matthew  Arnold. 

Harrison's  Tennyson,  Ruskin,  Mill,  and  Other  Literary  Estimates. 
Ruskin's  Pr^eterita  :   Scenes  of  My  Past  Life. 
Collingwood's  Life  and  Works  of  John  Ruskin. 
Mrs.  Meynell's  John  Ruskin. 
Mather's  John  Ruskin  :   His  Life  and  Teachings. 
Waldstein's  Work  of  John  Ruskin :   Its  Influence  upon  Modern  Thought 

and  Life. 
Hobson's  John  Ruskin,  Social  Reformer. 
Scudder's  Introduction  to  the  Writings  of  John  Ruskin. 
W.  M.  Rossetti's  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 
Sharp's  D.  G.  Rossetti :  A  Record  and  Study. 
Gary's  The  Rossettis,  Dante  Gabriel  and  Christina. 
Gary's  William  Morris. 
Mackail's  Life  of  Morris. 

Valance's  William  Morris :   His  Art,  Writings,  and  Public  Life. 
Balfour's  Life  of  Stevenson. 
Black's  Life  of  Stevenson. 
Japp's  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
Cornford's  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
Le  Gallienne's  George  Meredith  :  Some  Characteristics. 
Lynch's  George  Meredith;   A  Study. 
Wratislaw's  A.  C.  Swinburne;   A  Study. 

; 

Collections  of  Poetry  and  Prose. 

Warner's  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Literature. 

Morley's  Library  of  English  Literature  (five  volumes). 

Ward's  English  Poets  (four  volumes  —  with  critical  introductions  —  from 

Chaucer  to  Tennyson). 
Craik's  English  Prose   (five  volumes — with  critical  introductions  —  from 

Mandeville  to  Stevenson). 


READING   AND    STUDY   LIST  427 

Collections  of  Poetry  and  Prose  —  Continued. 
Arber's  British  Anthologies  (ten  volumes  of  poetical  selections  —  fifteenth 

to  eighteenth  century). 
Palgrave's  Golden  Treasury  (lyric  poetry). 
Whiteford's  Anthology  of  English  roetry,  Beowulf  to  Kipling. 
George's  Chaucer  to  Arnold  :  Types  of  Literary  Art  (poetry  and  prose). 
Garnett's  English  Prose  from  Elizabeth  to  N'ictoria. 
Hales's  Longer  English  Poems  (from  Spenser  to  Shelley). 
Pancoast's  Standard  English  Poems,  Spenser  to  Tennyson. 
Pancoast's  Standard  English  Prose,  Bacon  to  Stevenson. 
Syle's  From  Milton  to  Tennyson  (pt)etry). 
Page's  British  Poets  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  (full  selections  from  fifteen 

chief  poets). 
Stedman's  Victorian  .\ntbology  (poetry). 

Admirable  single-volume  editions  of  the  principal  poets  are  to  be  found  in 
the  Globe  Edition  (The  Macmillan  Co.),  the  Cambridge  Edition  (Hough- 
ton, Mifflin  &  Co.),  and  the  Oxford  Poets  (Clarendon  Press). 

Critical  annotated  texts  of  a  great  variety  of  works  are  provided  by  many 
publishers.  Among  the  most  important  series  are  the  Belles  Lettres  Series 
(Heath  &  Co.),  the  Athenaeum  Press  Series  (Ginn  &  Co.),  and  the  Temple 
Editions  (Dent). 


AIDS   TO    STUDY 

The  student  should  make  it  perfectly  clear  to  himself  that  the 
great  matter  of  importance  in  the  study  of  Uterature  is  a  first-hand 
knowledge  of  the  literary  works  themselves.  These  he  should 
read,  and  make  his  own  judgments  upon  them.  Afterward  he 
should  seek  to  enlarge  and  correct  those  judgments  by  comparing 
them  with  the  opinions  of  competent  critics.  This  book  does  not 
aim  to  take  the  place  of  either  the  Hterature  or  the  criticism,  but 
rather  to  serve  as  the  student's  guide  to  both. 

English  literature  is  vitally  associated  with  English  history.  Nei- 
ther can  be  properly  understood  without  the  other.  The  literary 
student  should  therefore  obtain  at  least  a  general  knowledge  of 
historical  events  and  conditions  in  each  period  from  such  works 
as  those  mentioned  in  the  Reading  and  Study  List. 

Chapter  I.  —  Anglo-Saxon  Pagan  Poetry  (449-670). 

The  most  important  poem  is  Beowulf.  At  least  the  most  strik- 
ing passages  should  be  read,  and  the  whole  poem  will  be  found 
interesting.  Good  translations  are  those  of  Earle,  of  Morris  and 
Wyatt,  of  Child,  and  of  Tinker,  in  prose,  and  those  of  Garnett  and 
.of  Hall,  in  verse.  Garnett's  and  Hall's  editions  also  contain  a 
translation  of  the  Fight  at  Finnsburg.  Widsi'8  is  translated  in 
full  in  Morley's  English  Writers  and  in  Gollancz's  Exeter  Book. 
The  Lament  of  Deor  is  given  in  Brooke's  Early  English  Litera- 
ture. For  further  selections,  including  passages  from  the  Charms, 
see  Brooke  and  Morley. 

Practically  all  of  the  poems  mentioned  in  this  and  the  next  two 
sections  are  translated  in  Cook  and  Tinker's  Translations  from  Old 
English  Poetry.  It  is  the  best  single  volume  for  the  student,  and 
contains  nearly  all  that  he  is  likely  to  need. 

Originals  of  practically  the  whole  body  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
are  to  be  found  in  the  ^Vulcker-Grein  Bibliothek  der  Angelsach- 
sischen  Poesie.  There  are  also  various  separate  editions  of  the 
more  important  poems.     A  knowledge  of  the  language  may  be 

428 


AIDS   TO   STUDY 


429 


obtained  from  such  works  as  Bright's  and  Sweet's  An^/o-Sii.xon 
Reai/c-rs  and  Cook's  First  Book  in  Old  English ;  these  also  con- 
tain interesting  texts. 

The  history  of  this  period  is  mainly  concerned  with  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  invasion  of  Britain ;  the  j^radual  conquest  of  the  larger  por- 
tion of  the  island  ;  the  extermination  of  the  Britons  or  their  retreat 
into  Scotland,  the  Lake  Region,  Wales,  Cornwall,  and  Ireland  ;  the 
settlement  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  in  tlieir  new  home  ;  the  establish- 
ment of  a  number  of  petty  kingdoms  ;  the  advent  of  Christianity 
and  the  struggle  of  paganism  against  the  new  religion.  The  char- 
acter and  significance  of  these  events  should  be  learned  from  some 
standard  history,  together  with  the  main  facts  concerning  the  pagan 
religious  beliefs  and  the  social  life  of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

In  what  ways  is  this  poetry  affected  by  the  religious  conceptions 
and  feelings  of  the  race?  What  traits  of  character  and  what  ideals 
of  life  does  this  poetry  reveal?  What  light  does  this  poetry  throw 
on  the  position  of  the  scop  and  the  conditions  under  which  poetry 
was  created?  Give  an  outline  of  the  narrative  of  Beowulf.  What 
qualities  of  substance  or  of  style  make  Beowulf  superior  as  litera- 
ture to  all  other  Anglo-Saxon  poems?  Explain  the  principles  of 
alliteration  and  accent  on  which  Anglo-Saxon  metre  is  based,  and 
note  how  Anglo-Saxon  differs  from  modern  English  verse. 

Chapter  II.  —  Anglo-Saxon  Christian  Poetry  (670-871). 

Caedmon's  Hymn  is  given  in  King  Alfred's  West-Saxon  version 
in  MacLean's  Old  and  Afidille  English  Reader  a.v\i\  Bright's  Anglo- 
Saxon  Reader.  This  version  may  be  interestingly  compared  with 
the  original  Northumbrian  form  and  the  modern  translation  given 
in  this  book.  Many  of  the  best  passages  from  the  Caedmonian 
Paraphrase,  from  Cynewulf,  and  from  the  other  poetry  of  this 
period,  are  translated  in  Morley  and  Brooke.  Cook's  /udilh  gives 
the  complete  original  and  translation  of  that  interesting  i)oem. 
The  IVanderer,  the  Seafarer,  and  the  Dream  of  the  Rood  are 
translated  in  Brooke,  and  the  first  two  also  in  Morley.  Cynewulfs 
Elene,  together  with  Judith  and  the  later  Battle  of  Brtdnanburh 
and  Battle  of  Afaldon,  are  translated  in  a  single  volume  by  Clar- 
nett.  Whitman's  Cynewulfs  Crist  is  a  good  prose  translation. 
Crist,  Phoenix,  and  Andreas  are  translated,  with  other  poems,  in 
Gollancz's  Exeter  Book.  Judith,  the  Wanderer,  the  Seafarer^  the 
Dream   of  the   Rood,  Elene,  and  Phoenix   are    to    be    especially 


430  AIDS    TO    STUDY 

recommended  for  reading.  The  student  should  not  neglect  to 
get  a  conception  of  the  Caedmonian  Paraphrase  through  selected 
passages. 

See  Cook  and  Tinker,  as  above. 

The  history  of  this  period  is  one  of  fierce  struggles,  but  of 
gradual  development  in  two  important  directions.  Historical 
authorities  should  be  consulted  for  the  growth  of  Christianity  and 
the  establishment  of  an  English  church,  for  the  terrible  invasions 
of  the  Danes,  and  for  the  consolidation  of  the  scattered  kingdoms 
into  something  Hke  an  English  nationality.  A  united  church  and 
a  united  nation  were  largely  due  to  the  stress  of  conflict  against  a 
common  foe. 

In  what  respects  does  the  Christian  poetry  resemble  the  pagan 
poetry,  and  in  what  respects  does  it  differ?  To  what  extent  does 
the  poetry  of  this  period  show  the  direct  influence  of  Christianity? 
Why  was  not  the  literary  triumph  of  Christianity  more  complete 
and  speedy?  What  is  the  character  of  the  Caedmonian  Para- 
phrase, and  what  is  its  probable  relation  to  C^dmon?  What  was 
the  range  and  character  of  Cynewulf's  work?  Give  an  outline  of 
Cynewulf 's  Ekne.  In  what  dialect  were  most  of  the  poems  of 
this  period  written,  in  what  dialect  have  they  been  preserved,  and 
to  what  causes  is  this  state  of  affairs  due  ? 

Chapter  III. — Anglo-Saxon  Prose  Period  (871-1066). 

Bede's  Ecclesiastical  History,  Alfred's  Boethiiis  and  Orosius, 
and  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  are  translated  in  Bohn's  Antiqua- 
rian Library.  Bede's  account  of  Csedmon  may  be  found  in 
Chapter  XXIV.  An  interesting  passage  of  the  Orosius  is  Alfred's 
original  narrative  of  the  voyages  of  Ohthere  and  Wulfstan.  This 
passage  is  given  by  Morley  ;  and  both  in  Morley  and  in  Brooke's 
English  Literature  from  the  Beginning  to  the  Norman  Conquest 
may  be  found  Alfred's  most  interesting  preface  to  his  translation 
of  Gregory's  Pastoral  Care.  Important  passages  from  the 
Chronicle  are  the  entries  for  the  years  871,  878,  893-897,  958, 
975,  and  1 137.  The  Battle  of  Brunanhurh  and  the  Battle  of 
Maldon  are  translated  by  Garnett  —  the  former  also  by  Tennyson. 
For  these  poems,  see  Cook  and  Tinker,  as  above. 

The  struggle  with  the  invading  Danes  continued,  but  Enghsh 
nationality  and  Christianity  were  saved  and  strengthened  by 
Alfred.     Under  his  successors,  the  kingdom  was  extended  until, 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  43  1 

after  the  defeat  of  the  heathen  forces  at  the  battle  of  Brunanburh 
in  937,  .-f^thelstan  "became  immediate  king  of  all  the  Teutonic 
races  in  Britain,  and  superior  lord  of  all  the  Celtic  principalities  " 
(Freeman).  T»*vard  the  close  of  the  tenth  century,  Danish  in- 
roads began  anew,  and  continued  with  such  success  that,  from 
1016  to  1042,  Danish  kings  sat  on  the  throne  of  England.  After 
a  quarter  of  a  century  of  native  rule  came  the  Norman  Conquest 
in  1 066.  These  events  brought  with  them  social  and  religious 
changes  which  it  is  important  for  the  student  of  literature  to 
understand.  The  Norman  Conquest  is  one  of  the  great  turning 
points  of  Knglish  history,  and  marks  the  close  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
l)eriod. 

In  what  ways  was  literature  affecteil  by  historical  movements 
during  the  prose  period?  What  was  the  relative  position  of 
prose  and  poetry  in  this  period?  Why  is  the  prose  inferior  as 
literature?  What  was  the  character  and  extent  of  King  Alfred's 
contributions  to  literature?  What  is  there  in  the  Ans^/o-Saxon 
Chronicle  that  is  valuable  as  literature  or  as  history?  Give  a 
brief  account  of  the  contents  of  the  Battle  of  Brunanburh,  and 
show  its  relation  to  historical  movements.  What  sort  of  literature 
did  ..-Elfric  write,  and  what  are  the  merits  of  his  prose  style? 

Chapter  IV.  —  The  Anglo-Norman  Period  (i 066-1 360). 

Layamon's  Brut  has  been  edited  and  translated  by  Madden. 
The  romantic  literature  may  be  studied  in  Ellis's  Spccimem  of 
Early  English  Metrical  Romances  and  in  Morley's  Early  En^^lish 
Prose  Romances.  Morley's  English  Writers  gives  an  outline  of 
the  Brut  and  of  Havelok  the  Dane.  Many  prose  and  verse  texts 
may  be  found  in  Morris  and  Skeat's  Specimens  of  Early  English. 
An  interesting  edition  of  Mamleville's  Travels,  with  facsimiles  of 
the  curious  original  illustrations,  is  that  of  John  Ashton.  Brief 
selections  may  be  found  in  Craik's  English  Prose  The  text 
q{  Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Grene  Knight  has  been  edited  for  the 
Early  English  Text  Society.  Collancz  has  edited  The  Pearl  with 
a  translation.  A  good  idea  of  the  changes  in  the  language  may 
be  obtained  from  Lomsbury  or  Emerson. 

The  historical  in(n'emcnts  of  the  period  are  too  many  and  too 
complicated  for  brief  and  comprehensive  statement.  Some  of 
the  most  important  matters  that  call  for  consideration  arc  the 
growth  of  feudalism,  the  rise  of  chivalry  and  the  prosecution  of 


432  AIDS    TO    STUDY 

the  Crusades,  the  strife  between  king  and  baronage,  the  founda- 
tion of  universities,  the  struggle  between  ecclesiastical  and  civil 
power,  the  spread  of  the  monastic  orders,  the  development  of 
ParHament  and  constitution,  the  civil  and  foreign  wars,  the 
growth  of  towns  and  industries.  The  important  historical  results 
are  the  union  of  the  two  races,  the  mingling  of  the  two  tongues, 
and  the  development  of  a  new  English  nationality.  At  the  close 
of  the  period,  England  is  at  last  ready  for  the  beginnings  of  a 
great  national  literature. 

What  writers  and  works  illustrate  the  native  Enghsh  and  relig- 
ious spirit?  What  writers  and  works  represent  the  Norman  and 
romantic  spirit?  What  is  the  character  of  Layamon's  Brut? 
What  were  the  great  "  cycles  of  romance "  ?  What  is  the 
character  of  Mandeville's  Travels?  What  preparation  was 
made  by  this  period  for  the  further  development  of  Enghsh 
literature? 

Chapter  V.  —  The  Age  of  Chaucer  (1360-1400). 

Selections  from  Wyclif  may  be  found  in  Craik,  in  Morley's 
Library  of  English  Literature,  in  Old  South  Leaflets,  in  Maynard, 
Merrill  and  Go's.  English  Classics,  in  Arnold's  Select  English  Works 
of  Wyclif,  and  in  Morris  and  Skeat's  Specimens.  Bosworth  and 
Waring's  Gospels  gives  in  parallel  columns  the  Gothic,  Anglo- 
Saxon,  Wyclif,  and  Tyndale  versions.  Selections  from  Langland 
and  Gower  may  be  found  in  Ward,  Morley,  and  Morris  and  Skeat. 
The  complete  works  of  both  poets  are  published  by  the  Clarendon 
Press.  The  standard  edition  of  Chaucer  is  that  of  Skeat,  in  six 
volumes.  Other  good  editions  are  Skeat's  Student's  Chaucer  and 
Pollard's  Globe  Chaucer.  Corson's  Chaucer''s  Canterbury  Tales 
contains  the  best  parts  of  that  poem,  and  is  an  excellent  book  for 
the  student.  Of  the  many  essays  on  Chaucer,  none  is  better  than 
that  of  Lowell.  The  student  should  read  the  Prologue  entire  and 
at  least  one  of  the  tales  —  preferably  the  Knightes  Tale  or  the 
Nonne  Preestes  Tale.  Effort  should  be  made  to  appreciate  Chau- 
cer's masterly  skill  in  the  portrayal  of  character  and  in  the  telling 
of  a  story.  Some  of  his  descriptions  should  also  be  noted.  Some 
knowledge  of  his  pronunciation  and  metre  is  essential  to  an 
appreciation  of  the  real  beauty  of  his  verse. 

The  Hundred  Years'  War  continues  through  the  whole  of  this 
period.     The  real  historical  interest  of  the  age,  however,  lies  in 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  433 

certain  movements  of  a  less  dramatic  character.  English  nation- 
ality is  developed  in  a  marked  (iegree.  The  power  of  Parliament 
is  still  further  extended.  Great  social  changes  are  taking  place, 
certain  phases  of  which  are  marked  by  the  peasant  revolt.  The 
English  church  becomes  more  indepentlent,  and  the  great  "  Lol- 
lard "  movement,  headed  by  W'yclif,  anticipates  the  Reformation. 
The  century  closes  with  the  dethronement  of  Richard  II  by  Henry 
of  Lancaster.  Literature  throws  much  light  on  these  movements, 
and  is  in  turn  illuminated  by  them.  In  addition  to  the  ordinary 
historical  authorities,  a  book  like  Jusserand's  English  IVay/aring 
Life  in  the  Fouriec-nth  Century  will  be  helpful  in  illustrating  social 
conditions. 

How  do  Chaucer  and  Gower  illustrate  the  romantic  temper  of 
the  age?  How  do  Chaucer,  Wyclif,  and  Langland  illustrate  social 
and  religious  conditions?  Give  a  careful  description  of  some  one 
or  more  of  Chaucer's  pilgrims.  What  is  the  plan  of  the  Prologue? 
\\"hat  is  the  plan  of  the  Canterbuty  Talcs  ?  How  does  the  Prologue 
illustrate  Chaucer's  humor  and  his  skill  in  character  description  ? 
Give  an  outline  of  the  narrative  of  some  one  of  the  Canterbury 
Tales  and  specify  Chaucer's  chief  excellences  as  a  narrator.  What 
classes  of  society  are  dealt  with  in  the  Prologue,  and  what  is 
Chaucer's  attitude  toward  each?  Is  his  satire  bitter  or  genial? 
Illustrate.  Compare  Chaucer  with  Langland,  as  a  poet  and  as  a 
man. 

Chapter  VI.  —  The  Fifteenth  Century  (1400-1500). 

Sufficient  examples  of  Occleve  and  Lydgate  may  be  found  in 
Ward,  Arber,  Morley,  and  Morris  and  Skeat.  The  same  authori- 
ties provide  material  illustrating  the  Scotch  poets.  The  King's 
Quair  has  been  edited  by  Skeat.  Good  editions  of  Malory's 
Morte  cV Arthur  are  those  of  Strachey,  Gollancz  (Temple  Clas- 
sics), and  Rhys  (Camelot  Series,  selected  portions).  Lanier's 
Boy's  King  Arthur  is  an  abriilgment,  with  an  introductory  essay. 
The  standard  collection  of  ballads  is  Child's  English  ami  Scottish 
Popular  Ballads  (five  volumes).  A  condensation  of  this  work  is 
published  in  a  single  volume.  Other  important  works  are  Percy's 
Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,  Scott's  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Bor- 
der, and  Gummcre's  Old  English  Ballads.  ICxcellent  selections 
may  be  found  in  Ward,  Arber,  and  Morley.  l"or  the  Mysteries, 
^Miracle  Plays,  and  .Moralities,  the  best  volumes  of  selections  are 


434  AIDS   TO   STUDY 

Pollard's  English  Miracle  Plays,  Moralities,  and  Interludes  and 
Manly's  Specimens  of  the  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama.  Selections 
may  also  be  found  in  Morley's  English  Writers  and  Library  of 
English  Literature.  The  mystery  or  miracle  type  is  well  repre- 
sented by  the  Chester  Play  of  Noah  and  the  Tovvneley  Play  of  the 
Shepherds  ;  the  morality  type  by  Everyman  and  Hyckescorner. 

The  Hundred  Years'  War  continued  throughout  the  first  half  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  resulting  finally  in  the  loss  of  the  English 
dominions  in  France.  The  accession  of  Henry  of  Lancaster  to 
the  throne  had  established  the  right  of  Parliament  to  fix  the  royal 
succession ;  and  under  the  rule  of  the  Lancastrian  kings,  parlia- 
mentary power  naturally  grew  broader  and  firmer.  Under  Henry  VI 
the  weakness  of  the  king  led  almost  to  anarchy.  Jack  Cade's 
rebellion  is  an  index  of  the  prevailing  disorder.  This  state  of 
affairs  was  still  further  intensified  by  the  civil  wars  between  the 
Houses  of  Lancaster  and  York,  known  as  the  Wars  of  the  Roses. 
By  the  overthrow  and  death  of  Richard  HI  and  the  accession  of 
Henry  VII,  the  era  of  the  Plantagenet  kings  came  to  an  end,  and 
the  reign  of  the  Tudors  began.  The  last  years  of  the  century  were 
years  of  peace.  The  century  as  a  whole  was  one  of  war  and  tur- 
moil ;  but  it  was  marked  also  by  industrial  and  commercial  pros- 
perity, by  the  introduction  of  the  art  of  printing,  and  by  the 
beginnings  of  the  Renaissance.  The  history  of  the  period  largely 
accounts  for  the  stagnation  of  literature  after  the  splendid  promise 
of  Chaucer  in  the  fourteenth  century. 

How  is  the  influence  of  Chaucer  manifested  in  Occleve,  Lyd- 
gate,  and  the  Scotch  poets?  What  new  attitude  toward  nature  is 
displayed  in  the  Scotch  poets?  What  service  did  Malory  perform 
for  literature  in  collecting  the  Arthurian  legends,  and  in  what  ways 
are  modern  poets  indebted  to  his  work  ?  Give  an  account  of  the 
incidents  and  an  estimate  of  the  poetic  quality  of  some  of  the 
more  famous  ballads.  Give  an  outline  of  a  Miracle  Play  and  an 
account  of  the  way  in  which  it  was  acted  (see  Bates's  English 
Religious  Drama').  Give  an  outline  of  a  Morality,  and  compare 
it  with  the  Miracle  Plays  for  dramatic  interest. 

Chapter  VII.  —  Beginnings  of  Renaissance  and  Reformation  in 
England  (i  500-1579). 

For  the  prose  of  this  period,  see  Morley's  Library  of  English 
Literature   and    Craik's    English    Prose.       For    the   poetry,    see 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  435 

Ward's  English  Poefs  and  Morley.  For  the  drama,  see  Pollard's 
English  Miracle  Plays,  Moralities,  and  Interludes,  Manly's  Speci- 
mens of  the  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama,  and  Morley.  An  P^nglish 
translation  of  More's  Utopia  may  be  found  in  Morley's  Universal 
Library,  in  the  Camelot  Series,  in  the  Temple  Classics,  and  in 
Arber's  Reprints.  Ascham's  chief  works  may  be  found  in  .Arber's 
Reprints.  Bosworth  and  Waring's  Gospels  contains  the  (lothic, 
Anglo-Saxon,  Wyclif,  and  Tyndale  versions.  The  poems  of  Wyatt 
and  Surrey  may  be  found  in  the  Riverside  Edition,  in  the  Aldine 
Edition,  in  Arber's  TottcTs  Miscellany,  and  in  Arber's  British 
Anthologies.  The  poetry  of  Sackville  may  be  found  in  Scribner's 
Library  of  Old  Authors ;  his  Gorhoduc,  in  Manly's  Specimens. 

The  earlier  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  witnessed  the  spread 
of  the  new  learning  in  England,  and  the  growth  of  the  universities 
under  Renaissance  influences.  The  influence  of  the  Reformation 
is  also  to  be  noted.  The  conflict  of  Henry  VIII  with  the  papacy 
led  to  the  reconstitution  of  the  English  church,  the  dissolution  of 
the  monasteries,  etc.  During  the  reign  of  Mary  came  Catholic 
reaction  and  severe  persecution.  With  the  accession  of  Elizabeth, 
Protestant  influences  revived  and  Puritanism  began  to  grow.  The 
reign  of  Elizabeth  is  characterized  by  a  spirit  of  daring  adventure 
and  of  intense  patriotism.  England  rapidly  grew  into  one  of  the 
first-rate  powers  of  Europe.  The  history  of  the  whole  century  is 
of  great  interest,  and  these  are  only  a  few  of  the  movements  which 
demand  the  attention  of  the  student  of  literature. 

What  steps  mark  the  development  of  the  drama  during  this 
period?  Give  some  account  of  the  character  of  the  first  English 
comedy  and  the  first  P^nglish  tragedy.  What  new  spirit  in  poetry 
is  illustrated  by  the  work  of  Wyatt  and  Surrey  ?  Who  were  the 
"  humanists,"  and  why  are  they  so  called  ?  What  writers  are 
especially  associated  with  the  Reformation,  and  what  sort  of  liter- 
ary work  did  they  produce?  Who  were  the  leading  i)rose-writers 
of  the  period,  and  in  what  ways  was  prose  style  improved? 

Chapter  VIII.  —  The  Age  of  Shakespeare  (1579-1625). 

Prose- writers.  —  Oaik  and  Clamctt  maybe  consulted  for  the 
prose-writers  of  this  and  all  succeeding  jjcriods.  Sidney's  Z)<y<'//.K' 
of  Poesy  is  edited  by  Cook,  the  Arcadia  by  Summer.  Lyly's 
Euphues  may  be  found  in  Arber's  Rei)rints.  Hacon's  Essays 
may  be  obtained  in  the  Temple  Classics  and   in   various  other 


436  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

handy  editions.  Some  of  the  best  of  these  should  certainly  be 
read,  as,  for  instance,  Of  Truth,  Of  Death,  Of  Love,  Of  Great 
Place,  Of  Ambition,  Of  Beauty,  Of  Studies.  For  other  prose-writers 
of  the  period,  brief  selections  will  suffice.  Some  passages  from 
the  "  Authorized  Version "  of  the  Bible  should  be  read  at  this 
point. 

Poets.  —  Good  editions  of  Spenser  and  of  the  Faerie  Queene 
in  whole  or  in  part  are  easily  obtained.  Book  I  of  the  Faerie 
Queene  should  be  read  by  every  student.  Also  some  good  essay 
on  Spenser,  like  Lowell's  or  Dowden's.  For  other  poets  of  the 
period,  the  selections  in  Ward  and  in  Arber's  Anthologies  will  be 
found  adequate.  These  works  may  also  be  consulted  for  later 
periods.  The  selections  from  the  sonnets  of  Sidney  and  Shake- 
speare in  Ward  should  be  read. 

Dramatists.  —  Several  good  earlier  dramas  are  given  in 
Manly's  Specimens  of  the  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama.  A  large 
variety  of  excellent  selections  may  be  found  in  Morley's  Library 
and  in  Lamb's  Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets.  Many 
single  plays  are  edited,  as  in  the  Temple  Dramatists.  Thayer's 
Best  Elizabethan  Plays  contains  Marlowe's  y*?^'  of  Malta,  Jonson's 
Alchetnist,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Philaster,  Fletcher  and  Shake- 
speare's Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  and  Webster's  Duchess  of  Malfi. 
These  five  plays  would  alone  suffice  to  give  a  good  idea  of  the 
Ehzabethan  drama  aside  from  Shakespeare.  For  students  who  have 
time  to  read  more  extensively,  the  Mermaid  Series  of  the  drama- 
tists may  be  recommended. 

Shakespeare.  —  Furness's  Variorum  Shakespeare,  so  far  as  pub- 
lished, is  the  authoritative  edition  for  reference  or  for  critical 
study.  Good  school  editions  are  the  Temple,  the  Arden,  and  the 
Rolfe.  A  wide  range  of  reading  on  Shakespeare's  life  and  work  is 
suggested  in  the  Reading  and  Study  List.  Some  one  play  or  more 
should  certainly  be  read.  For  the  beginner,  The  Merchant  of 
Venice,  Julius  CcBsar,  and  Macbeth  may  be  recommended.  The 
first  thing  to  be  done  with  Shakespeare  is  to  read  him,  for  pure 
delight  in  his  fascinating  plots  and  his  wonderful  pictures  of  life 
and  character.  Beyond  this,  his  work  will  bear  the  most  careful 
and  critical  study  ;  but  such  study  should  be  vital  and  distinctively 
literary  rather  than  linguistic  or  textual.     Minute  criticism  is  well 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  437 

for  the  scholar  ;  but  the  living  interest  of  Shakespeare  should  not 
be  spoiled  for  the  younger  student  by  too  close  attention  to  details. 

During  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  England  rose  to  the  first  rank 
among  European  powers.  This  was  due  in  no  small  measure  to 
the  able  and  vigorous  personality  of  the  queen  herself  and  to  the 
labors  and  counsels  of  the  great  men  by  whom  she  was  sur- 
rounded. The  execution  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  destroyed  a 
powerful  rival.  The  war  with  Spain  and  the  shattering  of  the 
Armada  humbled  the  power  and  priile  of  the  dominant  state  of 
Europe.  The  achievements  of  great  explorers,  adventurers, 
statesmen,  and  men  of  business  tentled  to  enrich  the  nation  and 
to  raise  the  importance  of  the  solid  middle  classes.  Unsurpassed 
literar}'  achievement  added  the  crown  to  F^ngland's  greatness. 
The  reign  of  James  I  (1603-1625)  is  chiefly  memorable  for  the 
struggle  between  the  growing  power  of  the  people  through  Parlia- 
ment and  the  Stuart  doctrine  of  the  "  divine  right  of  kings." 

What  is  the  "Spenserian  stanza"  ?  Give  an  outline  of  the 
narrative  of  Book  I  of  the  Faerie  Qi/ccne,  and  explain  its  allegory. 
Select  examples  of  Spenser's  music,  picturesqueness,  imaginative 
power,  and  nobility  of  spirit.  What  story  of  Sidney's  life  is  re- 
vealed in  the  sonnets  oi  Astrophel  and  Stella  ?  Give  an  outline 
of  Marlowe's  Dr.  Faustus  ox  Jeio  of  Ma/fa,  and  seek  to  make  a 
judgment  of  its  poetical  and  dramatic  power.  Describe  the 
general  picture  of  life  in  one  of  Shakespeare's  dramas,  bringing  out 
the  relations  of  the  characters  by  showing  the  groups  into  which 
they  naturally  fall.  Study  some  one  of  Shakespeare's  characters 
(Shylock,  Portia,  Brutus,  Macbeth,  Lady  Macbeth,  etc.),  illus- 
trating each  characteristic  by  reference  to  the  drama.  Analyze 
one  of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  plots,  showing  the  connected  series 
of  events  presented  in  each  scene  and  in  each  act.  Eind  illus- 
trations of  Shakespeare's  power  to  represent  human  passions.  Show 
the  range  of  Shakespeare's  symi)athy  with  a  great  variety  of  human 
beings.  Find  illustrations  of  Shakespeare's  poetic  power.  Give 
examples  of  Shakespeare's  vivid  imagination.  Which  docs  Shake- 
speare portray  best  -  men  or  women  ?  Illustrate.  Show  how 
the  plot  of  Ben  jonson's  Alchemist  illustrates  the  classical  unities. 

Chapter  IX        The  Age  of  Milton   (1625-1660). 

Prose- writers.  —  The  miscellaneous  prose  literature  will  be 
sufficiently  illustrated    for   the  ordinary  student  l)y  selections  in 


438  AIDS  TO   STUDY 

Craik,  in  Garnett^  and  in  Morley's  Library.  Most  students  would 
be  interested  in  reading  Walton's  Complete  Atigkr  entire.  The 
rich  and  stately  prose  style  of  the  time  may  be  profitably  com- 
pared with  the  prose  of  the  previous  period  and  with  the  clearer 
and  more  modern  prose  of  the  Age  of  Dryden. 

Poets.  —  Herrick's  poetry  may  be  satisfactorily  studied  in  the 
selections  of  the  Golden  Treasury  Series  or  of  Hale's  Poems  of 
Herrick.  Excellent  selections  from  Herrick  and  other  poets  in 
Ward  ;  at  least  as  much  of  Herrick's  poetry  as  is  there  given 
should  be  read.  Also  a  few  of  the  best  songs  of  Suckling  and 
Lovelace. 

Milton.  —  I^ Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  Comus,  Lycidas,  and  Book  I 
of  Paradise  Lost  should  be  read  carefully.  There  are  many  anno- 
tated editions.  Areopagitica  or  selections  from  Craik  and  Gar- 
nett  will  illustrate  his  prose.  Macaulay's  Essay  on  Miltoji  is  a 
brilliant  and  interesting  work.  Corson's  Introduction  to  Milton 
will  be  of  great  assistance. 

The  conflict  between  "  divine  right"  and  civil  liberty  led  to 
the  famous  Petition  of  Right.  The  dramatic  struggle  between 
Charles  I  and  the  Long  Parliament  is  full  of  interest  because  of 
the  great  men  and  the  great  principles  involved.  When  all  else 
failed,  the  differences  between  king  and  people  came  to  the  deci- 
sion of  civil  war.  Charles  was  defeated  and  beheaded.  Then 
follows  the  era  of  the  Commonwealth  under  Cromwell.  The  age 
was  one  of  civil  and  religious  conflict.  The  great  issues  were  civil 
and  religious  liberty.  The  result  was  the  temporary  triumph  of 
the  Puritan  party.  Literature  was  strongly  influenced,  in  both 
positive  and  negative  ways,  by  the  historical  situation.  Gardiner's 
First  Two  Stuarts  and  the  Puritan  Revolution  and  Dowden's 
Puritan  and  Anglican  will  be  found  instructive  and  illuminating, 
in  addition  to  the  ordinary  histories. 

Compare  the  Cavalier  Poets  with  Milton  as  to  the  spirit  and 
quality  of  their  poetry.  Compare  Milton's  Areopagitica  and  Tay- 
lor's Liberty  of  Prophesying,  as  to  style  and  sentiment.  Make  a 
careful  comparison  of  D  Allegro  and  //  Penseroso  as  to  the  plan 
of  treatment  and  the  mood  expressed.  In  what  ways  do  Comus 
and  Lycidas  illustrate  or  contrast  with  the  Puritan  temper?  Study 
the  series  of  great  descriptions  in  Book  I  of  Paradise  Lost  and 
note  what  poetical  qualities  they  illustrate.     Is  Samson  Agonistes 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  439 

a  great  drama?     How  does  its  method   compare  with  that  of 
Shakespeare?     Of  the  (ireek  dramatists? 

Chapter  X.  —  The  Age  of  Dryden  (1660-1700). 

Prose-writers.  —  The  great  prose  masterpiece  of  the  age  is 
Bunyan's  /'i/xn/zi's  Proi^nss.  .\\.  least  the  first  part  should  be 
read.  The  selections  in  Craik  and  Garnett  will  give  a  good  idea 
of  the  style  of  Temple,  Dryden,  and  other  prose-writers. 

Poets.  —  In  poetry  Dryden  is  the  great  figure.  Ills  Song /or 
S/.  Cecilia's  Day  and  Alexander's  Feast  should  be  read  as  repre- 
sentative of  his  lyric  poetry,  and  Absalom  and  Achitophel  as 
representative  of  his  satires.  The  two  lyrics  and  the  best  parts 
of  the  satire  may  be  found  in  Ward.  .An  instructive  comparison 
between  Dryden  and  Chaucer  may  be  matle  by  reading  Palatnon 
and  Arcite,  which  is  a  free  translation  of  Chaucer's  Knightcs  Tale. 
Ward's  selections  from  Butler  will  give  the  student  an  idea  of  the 
anti- Puritan  spirit  of  the  time. 

Dramatists.  —  Most  of  the  Restoration  drama  is  entirely  unfitted 
for  the  young  reader.  Dryden's  All  for  Love,  Otway's  Venice 
Preserved,  and  Farquhar's  Beaux'  Stratagem  are  among  the  best 
and  cleanest  of  these  plays,  though  not  altogether  untinged  by 
the  prevailing  looseness. 

Less  than  two  years  after  Cromwell's  death,  the  house  of  Stuart 
was  restored  to  the  throne  (1660)  in  the  person  of  Charles  II. 
The  reign  of  Charles,  in  harmony  with  his  character,  was  one  of 
intrigue  and  licentiousness.  The  foreign  power  of  Kngland  not- 
ably declined.  Charles  was  a  man  of  comparatively  easy  disi)osi- 
tion,  but  toward  the  close  of  his  reign,  the  old  Stuart  tyranny  was 
in  large  measure  revived.  This  state  of  affairs  was  made  still 
worse  under  James  II.  In  16S8  James  fled  from  Kngland.  and 
the  throne  was  declared  vacant.  Parliament  elected  to  the  throne 
:is  joint  monarchs  Mary,  the  daughter  of  James,  and  her  husband, 
William  of  Orange.  Under  their  reign  began  a  new  era,  of  con- 
stitutional monarchy,  of  comparative  civil  and  religious  freedom, 
of  revived  national  power,  of  greater  decency  in  social  life.  These 
historical  conditions  are  strikingly  reflected  in  literature. 

What  is  the  nature  of  the  allegory  in  Bunyaii's  Pilgrim's  /'ng- 
ress?  What  are  the  reasons  for  its  great  jM)])ularity  and  influ- 
ence?    Compare    Hunyan's  style  with    Dryden's,  and  note  some 


440  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

reasons  for  the  difference.  How  does  Butler's  Hudibras  reflect 
the  spirit  of  the  age  ?  What  are  the  characteristic  merits  of  Dry- 
den  as  a  lyric  poet?  Illustrate  by  examples  Dryden's  gift  of 
satiric  portraiture.  What  was  the  nature  .of  Dryden's  work  as  a 
dramatist?  What  marked  changes  in  the  drama  were  produced 
by  the  Restoration  Period? 

Chapter  XI.  —  The  Age  of  Pope  (1700-1740). 

Prose-writers.  —  In  Swift's  Gulliver'' s  Travels,  the  first  and 
second  voyages  should  be  read.  The  Battle  of  the  Books  may  be 
found  in  Garnett.  Addison  and  Steele  are  best  represented  by 
the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers.  An  admirable  edition,  contain- 
ing also  other  papers  from  the  Spectator  and  Macaulay's  Essay  on 
Addison,  is  Thurber's  Select  Essays  of  Addison.  Every  student 
should  read  Defoe's  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  his  Journal  of  the 
Plague  Year  is  also  extremely  interesting  and  characteristic. 
Good  selections  from  all  of  these  writers  may  be  found  in  Craik, 
Garnett,  and  Morley. 

Poets.  —  Good  selections  from  all  the  poets  in  Ward  and  Arber. 
The  Rape  of  the  Lock  should  be  read  entire,  and  also  some  selec- 
tions from  the  translation  of  the  Iliad.  The  Epistle  to  Dr.  Ar- 
buthnot  will  illustrate  Pope's  skill  as  a  satirist,  and  selections  from 
the  Essay  on  Criticism  and  Essay  on  Man  his  didactic  verse. 
These  last  are  given  in  Ward. 

The  most  interesting  historical  events  of  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne  have  to  do  with  foreign  wars  and  domestic  politics.  Both 
have  left  their  mark  on  literature  ;  but  more  important  than  either 
is  the  study  of  social  and  industrial  conditions.  At  the  death  of 
Anne,  the  throne  fell  to  George  I,  the  first  of  the  Hanoverian 
kings.  For  a  quarter  of  a  century  the  history  of  England  is 
largely  the  history  of  Whig  politics  and  of  English  trade.  PoHti- 
cal  life  was  corrupt  and  cynical,  and  social  life  was  extremely 
materialistic.  The  "  practical "  seemed  to  have  completely  super- 
seded the  ideal. 

What  characteristics  of  a  good  story  are  to  be  found  in  Swift's 
Gulliver'' s  Travels  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  its  satirical  purpose  ? 
For  what  qualities  is  Swift's  style  noteworthy?  Compare  Addi- 
son's style  with  Swift's.  Illustrate  from  the  De  Coverley  Papers 
the  portrayal  of  characters  from  real  hfe.     How  does  the  method 


AIDS   TO    STUDY  441 

of  portrayal  compare  with  that  of  Chaucer  in  the  Proloi^tie?  What 
personal  qualities  of  Addison  and  Steele  are  revealed  in  the  Spec- 
tator t%%z.\%l  By  what  means  does  Defoe  succeed  in  producing 
realistic  effect?  Compare  Pope  with  Dryden  as  to  the  method 
and  spirit  of  his  satire.  Illustrate  from  I'ope  the  spirit  and  the 
manner  of  Classicism.  Why  is  the  Rape  of  the  Lock  Pope's  most 
perfect  work?  Why  is  Pope's  poetry  especially  fitted  for  quo- 
tation ? 

Chapter  XII.  —  The  Age  of  Johnson  (1740-1780). 

Poets.  —  The  selections  in  Ward,  .Xrber,  and  Morley  will  suffice 
to  give  an  idea  of  the  poetry  of  Thomson,  Young,  Collins,  Chatter- 
ton,  Johnson,  and  the  lesser  poets.  The  best  of  Gray  and  good 
selections  from  Goklsmith  will  be  found  in  the  same  works  ;  but 
these  two  writers  deserve  to  be  read  more  fully.  Gray's  Ele^\ 
Progress  of  Poesy,  and  The  Bard  should  certainly  be  read  care- 
fully, and  at  least  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village  entire.  All  of 
these  poets  should  be  compared  with  Spenser,  Milton,  and  Pope, 
in  order  that  the  student  may  judge  whether  romantic  or  classical 
influences  were  most  felt  by  them. 

Novelists.  —  Good  selections  from  Richardson's  Pamela,  Field- 
ing's Tom  Jones,  and  Sterne's  Tristram  Shatiily  —  as  well  as  from 
earlier  prose  romance  —  are  given  in  Simonds's  Introductioti  to 
English  Fiction ;  and  from  various  novels  of  these  and  other 
writers,  in  Craik  and  Morley.  The  one  novel  of  the  period  that 
should  certainly  be  read  entire  is  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  WakefiehL 
This  and  Johnson's  Rasselas  are  printed  in  many  good  editions. 
It  is  desirable  that  the  student  should  read  at  this  point  some 
brief  work  on  the  history  of  the  novel.  Any  of  the  works  men- 
tioned in  the  Reading  and  Study  List  will  be  found  interesting  and 
instructive. 

Prose -writers.  —  GoUlsmith  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  prose- 
writers  of  the  literature,  and  some  of  his  charming  essays  should 
be  read.  Johnson's  Liz'es  of  the  Poets  will  represent  him  at  his 
best.  If  possible,  parts  of  Poswell's  Life  of  Johnson  should  be 
read.  Hurke  is  not  to  be  neglected.  His  speech  on  Conciliation 
with  America  should  be  known  to  every  student,  both  for  its 
matter   and    fur    its    style.     These   and   other   prose-writers   arc 


442  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

admirably  represented  by  the  selections  in  Craik,  Garnett,  and 
Morley. 

Dramatists.  —  Goldsmith's  Good-Natured  Man  and  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer  are  published  in  one  volume  in  the  Belles  Lettres 
Series.  Sheridan's  Rivals  and  School  for  Scandal  2,\q.  published 
separately  in  the  Temple  Dramatists.  The  second  drama  in  each 
case  will  represent  the  author  at  his  best. 

Foreign  wars  and  domestic  politics  still  continue  to  play  a 
prominent  part  in  history.  The  condition  of  politics  is  vastly 
improved.  Patriotism  becomes  something  more  than  an  empty 
word  or  a  cloak  for  corruption,  and  higher  political  and  social 
ideals  prevail.  The  great  Methodist  revival  under  the  Wesleys 
marks  a  quickened  moral  and  religious  sense  among  the  people. 
England's  modern  industrial  system  is  growing,  and  bringing  with 
it  great  ecomomic  changes.  The  winning  of  the  Indian  empire  is 
balanced  by  the  loss  of  the  American  colonies  as  a  result  of  the 
American  Revolution.  There  is  a  notable  struggle  for  the  free- 
dom of  the  press.  The  names  of  Chatham  and  Burke  indicate 
the  high  level  of  British  statesmanship. 

What  poets  of  the  age  represent  the  growing  interest  in  nature 
and  the  tendency  toward  romanticism?  To  what  extent  are  these 
same  movements  represented  in  the  non-poetic  literature  of  the 
time  ?  What  writers  are  conservative  or  reactionary  ?  What  phases 
in  the  development  of  the  novel  are  marked  by  this  period  ?  What 
is  the  difference  between  a  novel  and  a  romance?  Characterize 
the  style  of  each  of  the  great  prose-writers  of  the  age,  and  com- 
pare them  with  earher  masters  of  prose  style.  What  writers  rep- 
resent in  their  works  the  growing  spirit  of  individualism  ?  What 
writers  reflect  in  their  works  the  historical  movements  or  conditions 
of  the  age  ? 

Chapter  XIII.  — The  Age  of  Burns  (1780-1800). 

The  poets  of  the  period  are  fairly  represented  in  Ward,  Arber, 
and  Morley.  Some  of  the  charming  lyrics  of  Blake  should  be  read, 
and  the  quality  of  Cowper  should  be  studied  in  such  works  as  John 
Gilpin'' s  Ride,  On  the  Receipt  of  my  Mother's  Picture,  The  Casta- 
way, and  portions  of  The  Task.  Burns  is,  of  course,  the  great 
poetic  figure  of  the  age,  and  every  one  should  be  familiar  with  his 
best  poems.     The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  Tarn  O'Shanter,  To  a 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  443 

Mouse,  Au/ii  Lang  Syne,  To  Man  in  llcavc-n.  The  Banks  o'  Doon, 
Fare^icell  to  Xancy,  Ilii^hlanJ  Mary,  Bannockbtirn,  A  Ret/,  Retf 
Rose,  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a'  that,  are  all  indispensable  ;  ami  the 
student  may  go  much  farther  with  both  interest  and  profit. 

In  this  period  the  history  of  the  eighteenth  century  culminates. 
For  all  Europe,  as  well  as  for  England,  the  French  Revolution  is 
the  great  central  fiict  of  the  age.  What  France  achievetl  through 
a  tremendous  convulsion,  England  was  achieving  through  slow  but 
steady  progress.  The  spirit  of  individualism  was  asserting  itself 
with  irresistible  power.  For  the  time  being,  England  found  her- 
self compelled  to  war  with  France  in  defence  of  order  and  law, 
yet  the  two  nations  were  moving  in  the  same  direction.  During 
most  of  the  perioil  the  younger  Pitt  was  prime  minister,  and  he 
proved  a  worthy  pilot  through  the  great  storm.  Other  important 
movements  of  the  time  were  those  for  prison  reform  and  for  the 
abolition  of  the  slave  trade. 

In  what  ways  is  the  development  of  the  novel  continued  during 
this  perioii?  How  are  the  four  leading  poets  of  the  period  related 
to  the  principle  of  individualism  ?  What  are  some  of  the  evidences 
of  Cowper's  importance  as  a  poet  of  nature?  What  are  the  pecu- 
liarities of  Crabbe  as  to  subject-matter  and  method  of  treatment? 
What  are  the  distinguishing  qualities  of  Blake's  poetry?  What 
qualities  in  Burns's  poetry  account  for  its  great  popularity?  How 
are  man  and  nature  associated  with  each  other  in  Burns's  poetry? 
Illustrate  from  his  poems  Burns's  lyric  gift,  his  humor,  his  breadth 
of  sympathy,  his  poetic  imagination,  his  passionate  feeling,  his 
independence  of  spirit. 

Chapter  XIV.  — The  Age  of  Wordsworth  (1800   1832). 

Poets. — The  various  poets  of  the  age  are  well  rejjresented  by 
the  selections  in  ^\'ard.  Each  of  the  six  poets  discussed  in  the 
text  should  be  carefully  studied  through  at  least  a  few  typical 
selections.  The  best  of  Wordsworth's  poetry  is  gathered  in  .Ar- 
nold's volume  of  selections  in  the  Golden  Treasury  Series.  The 
introductory  essay  in  this  volume  is  one  of  the  best  on  Words- 
worth. Lowell's  essay  is  also  to  be  recommended.  Excellent 
annotated  volumes  are  (leorge's  edition  of  the  /'re/iu/e  and  Se/ee- 
tions  from  IVor./iWorth.  The  student  will  need  a  guide  amid  the 
mazes  of  Wordsworth's  rather  une<iual  poetry  ;  and  either  Ward, 
Arnold,  or  George  will  guide  him  safely  and  wisely  to  the  very 


444  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

best.  Ward  or  George's  Select  Poems  of  Coleridge  should  be  used 
in  the  study  of  Coleridge's  poetry.  Coleridge's  masterpiece  is 
The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariiier.  This,  the  beautiful  fragment 
of  Christabel,  and  Dejection  :  An  Ode,  should  be  known  to  every 
reader.  Scott's  poetry  is  best  represented  by  his  longer  narrative 
works.  Either  Marmion,  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  or  The  Lay  of  the 
Last  Minstrel  should  be  read  entire.  For  Byron,  Arnold's  Golden 
Treasury  edition  will  be  found  a  helpful  guide.  The  third  canto 
of  Childe  Harold  and  the  Prisoner  of  Chillon  may  be  profitably 
read.  The  selections  in  Ward  are  good,  but  somewhat  fragmentary. 
For  Shelley  nothing  is  better  than  the  selections  in  Ward.  Stanzas 
written  in  Dejection  near  Naples,  Ode  to  the  West  Wind,  The 
Cloud,  To  a  Skylark,  and  Adonais  should  certainly  be  read.  Stu- 
dents who  have  opportunity  to  read  Prometheus  Unbound  vi'"^  find 
Scudder's  edition  an  admirable  guide  to  a  rather  difficult  poem. 
Keats's  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  Ode  to  a  Nightingale,  Ode  on  a  Grecian 
Urn,  To  Autumn,  and  La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci,  together  with 
the  selections  from  Hype?-ion  and  from  the  sonnets  given  in  Ward, 
should  be  read.  Voluminous  selections  from  these  six  poets  — 
including  most  of  the  poems  mentioned  —  are  given  in  Page's 
British  Poets  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

Novelists.  —  Scott  and  Jane  Austen  are  represented  by  good 
selections  in  Craik ;  but  if  possible,  at  least  a  single  novel  of  each 
should  be  read  entire.  Selection  may  be  made  from  Scott's 
Lvanhoe,  The  Talisman,  Kenilworth,  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel,  Old 
Mortality,  Guy  Manneritig,  and  The  Heart  of  Midlothian,  and 
from  Jane  Austen's  Pride  and  Prejudice,  Sense  and  Sensibility,  and 
Enuna. 

Prose-writers.  —  The  selections  in  Craik  will  give  a  good 
conception  of  the  prose  Uterature  of  the  time.  De  Quincey  and 
Lamb  should  receive  fuller  consideration.  De  Quincey's  Confes- 
sions of  an  Opiu?n-Eater  is  extremely  interesting.  Other  fasci- 
nating works  are  Levana  and  Our  Ladies  of  Sorrow,  The  English 
Mail  Coach,  Joan  of  Arc,  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe,  The  Spanish 
Nun.  Lamb's  Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig  is  one  of  the  most 
charming  of  the  Essays  of  Elia  ;  but  the  student  who  has  leisure 
can  not  do  better  than  to  take  the  Essays  of  Elia  and  browse 
among  them  to  suit  his  fancy. 

Much  of  the  historical  interest  of  the  early  years  of  the  nine- 


AIDS   TO    STL'DV  445 

teenth  century  gathers  around  the  wars  with  Napoleon.  The 
battle  of  Trafalgar  in  1S05  saved  England  from  threatenetl  inva- 
sion. The  battle  of  U'aterloo  in  1S15  brought  the  wars  to  an  end 
by  the  overthrow  of  Napoleon.  In  the  meantime  had  occurred 
the  War  of  181 2  with  the  Uniteil  States.  The  succeeding  period 
of  peace  witnessed  a  decided  revival  of  liberalism.  Economic 
distress  and  labor  troubles  favored  the  growing  demanil  for  par- 
liamentary reform.  After  a  bitter  struggle,  extending  over  several 
years,  the  great  Reform  Rill  was  ])assed  in  1S32.  While  it  did  not 
secure  ideal  conditions,  it  greatly  extended  the  elective  fran(  hise, 
transferred  political  power  to  the  great  middle  class,  and  markeil 
the  beginning  of  democratic  conditions  in  England.  One  of  the 
earliest  acts  of  the  reformed  Parliament  was  the  abolition  of  slavery 
in  the  British  dominions,  and  this  was  shortly  followed  by  factory 
and  pauper  legislation  which  relieved  the  worst  wrongs  of  the 
white  slaves  of  the  modern  industrial  system. 

What  poems  or  passages  from  Wordsworth  illustrate  his  spirit- 
ual insight  into  the  significance  of  common  things  and  common 
men?  Illustrate  from  Colendge's  A neienf  Mariner  Vind  Christaln-l 
the  peculiar  character  of  his  imagination,  dive  an  outline  of  the 
story  of  Scott's  Marmion  or  Lady  of  the  Lake.  Show  how 
Byron's  poetry  reflects  his  own  personality  and  experience. 
Compare  Shelley's  Adonais  as  an  elegy  with  Milton's  Lycidas. 
Illustrate  from  Keats's  poetry  his  love  for  sensuous  beauty.  Char- 
acterize Scott  and  Jane  Austen  as  novelists,  and  comi)are  them 
with  each  other.  Cive  a  brief  statement  of  Coleridge's  critical 
views  on  Wordsworth  and  on  romantic  literature  (see  Beers's  .Slr^r- 
tiotis  from  the  Prose  Writings  of  CoUridge) .  What  elements  of 
great  literary  genius  are  revealed  in  the  writings  of  I)e  Quincey? 
What  qualities  give  such  a  peculiar  charm  to  Lamb's  prose  style? 

Chapters  XV  XVII.  —  The  Age  of  Tennyson  (1832   1892). 

Prose-writers.  —  Craik's  selections  will  be  found  invaluable 
for  the  many  excellent  prose-writers  of  the  period.  I-'rom 
.Macaulay  should  be  read  at  least  one  of  the  iiistorical  essays 
(/.ord  Clive,  Warren  J/astings,  Karl  of  Chatham.  William  Pitt, 
etc.),  one  of  the  literary  essays  {Milton,  Jhinyan,  Addison,  Gold- 
smith, Johnson,  et< .),  an<l  the  famous  third  chapter  of  his  lliitory 
of  England.  (  arlylc's  Essay  on  Hums  will  jKrhaiJS  best  serve 
the  purposes  of  the  average  student.      Heroes  and  Hero-  Worship 


446  AIDS    TO    STUDV" 

is  among  his  most  important  and  characteristic  works.  One  of 
the  finest  passages  of  his  masterpiece,  Sartor  Resartus,  is  the 
chapter  on  "The  Everlasting  Yea"  (Book  II,  Ch.  VII).  From 
The  French  Revolution,  Chapter  VI  of  Book  V  and  Chapter  X 
of  Book  VII  may  be  read.  Ruskin  is  best  represented  by  a 
volume  of  selections,  hke  that  of  Vida  D.  Scudder.  Sesame  and 
Lilies  should  be  read  entire.  From  Modern  Painters  read  "  Of 
the  Open  Sky "  (Part  II,  Sec.  Ill,  Ch.  I,  first  few  pages), 
"Of  Water,  as  painted  by  Turner"  (Part  II,  Sec.  V,  Ch.  Ill, 
last  three  paragraphs),  "  The  Mountain  Gloom  "  and  "  The  Moun- 
tain Glory"  (Part  V,  Chaps.  XIX  and  XX).  From  Stones  of 
Venice  read  "  St.  Mark's  "  (Vol.  II,  Ch.  IV).  For  Arnold's  prose, 
Gates's  volume  of  selections  is  to  be  recommended  ;  it  has  an 
admirable  introductory  essay.  Arnold's  Introduction  to  Ward's 
English  Poets  should  be  read,  and  also  his  essays  on  Gray  and 
Keats  in  Ward  and  his  essay  introductory  to  his  edition  of 
Wordsworth. 

Novelists.  —  There  are  good  selections  in  Craik  from  the 
novelists  of  the  period,  but  these  can  not  take  the  place  of  the 
reading  of  complete  novels.  Dickens  is  well  represented  by  Pick- 
wick Papers,  David  Copperfield,  Nicholas  Nickleby,  A  Tale  of  Two 
Cities,  Oliver  Twist,  or  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop.  From  Thackeray 
should  be  read  Vanity  Fair,  Henry  Esmond,  or  The  Newcoines. 
For  George  Eliot,  choice  should  be  made  of  Silas  Marner,  Adam 
Bede,  or  The  Mill  on  the  Floss.  Representative  works  of  the 
minor  novelists  are  suggested  after  their  names  in  the  Chrono- 
logical Outline. 

Poets.  —  Voluminous  selections  from  the  eight  leading  poets 
of  the  period  (Tennyson,  Mrs.  Browning,  Robert  Browning, 
Clough,  Arnold,  Rossetti,  Morris,  Swinburne)  are  given  in  Page's 
British  Poets  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.  Good  selections  from 
these  and  other  poets  in  Ward.  The  selections  from  Arnold  in 
Ward  are  especially  full  and  judicious.  Poems  of  Arnold  to  be 
particularly  recommended  are  Dover  Beach,  The  Forsaken  Mer- 
man, The  Strayed  Reveller,  Sohrab  and  Rustum,  The  Scholar- 
Gypsy,  Thyrsis,  Palladium,  and  Rugby  Chapel.  The  selections  in 
Ward  from  Mrs.  Browning  —  as  also  those  from  Robert  Browning 
—  are  very  unsatisfactory.  The  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese  are 
given  in  full  by  Page.     These  and  Cowper's  Grave  should  be  read. 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  447 

For  Browning,  one  needs  a  guide  ;  and  Corson's  Introduction  to 
Broicnin^  or  George's  Select  Poems  of  Broicnini^  may  be  recom- 
mended. A  few  of  the  best  poems  are  My  Lost  Duchess,  The 
Flight  of  the  Duchess,  The  Last  Ricte  Together,  Prospice,  Home 
Thoughts  from  Abroad,  Old  Pictures  in  Florence,  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  The  Bishop  Orders  his  Tomb  at  St. 
Praxctfs  Church,  Abt  Vogler,  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  A  Grammarian's 
Funeral,  An  Epistle  of  Karshish,  Saul,  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark 
Ttm>er  Came,  Cleon,  A  Death  in  the  Desert,  Epilogue  to  Asolando, 
In  a  Gondola,  In  a  Balcony,  Pippa  Passes.  \'an  Dyke's  Poems 
by  Tennyson  is  a  good  introductory  volume,  and  the  selections 
in  Ward  are  reasonably  satisfactory.  Among  poems  that  should 
be  read  are  The  Poet,  The  Lady  of  Shalott,  The  7'wo  Voices,  The 
Miller  s  Daughter,  The  Palace  of  Art,  The  Lotos-Eaters,  "  You  ask 
me,  why,  though  ill  at  ease,"  Morte  d^ Arthur,  Dora,  Ulysses,  Locks- 
lev  Hall,  Godi'i-a,  St.  Agnes'  Eve,  Sir  Galahad,  "Break,  Break, 
Break,"  The  Brook,  Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  UWlington, 
Northern  Farmer,  the  songs  from  The  Princess,  Maud,  Guinevere 
from  Idylls  of  the  King,  Enoch  Arden,  The  Revenge,  Merlin  and  the 
Gleam,  The  Making  of  Man,  The  Silent  Voices,  Crossing  the  Bar, 
and  from  ///  Memoriam,  the  Prehnle  and  Lyrics  IX-XIX,  LIV- 
LVII,  LXXXV,  CVI,  CIX,  CXIV,  CXX,  CXXVl,  CXXXI. 

The  history  of  the  Victorian  Period  has  been  more  complicated, 
though  less  dramatic,  than  that  of  previous  eras.  The  student 
will  be  called  upon  to  consider  movements  which  develop  slowly 
and  quietly,  but  which  are  vastly  important  in  their  results.  \'ic- 
toria  came  to  the  throne  in  1837.  Her  reign  falls  naturally  into 
two  parts.  Some  of  tiic  important  events  and  movements  of  the 
first  era  are  the  progress  of  parliamentary  reform,  the  effect  of 
new  inventi(jns,  the  Chartist  movement,  postal  reform,  the  Irish 
agitation,  the  Tractarian  movement,  the  repeal  of  the  corn  laws, 
factory  legislation,  the  Crimean  War,  the  Indian  Mutiny,  During 
this  era,  the  old  Whig  and  Tory  parties  passed  away  with  the 
passing  of  old  jxjlitical  issues.  The  second  era  is  marked  by  the 
struggle  of  the  new  Liberal  and  Conservative  parties  on  new 
ground  and  witli  new  aims.  This  era  is  characterized  by  the 
growth  of  liberalism  and  by  the  further  extension  of  the  elective 
franchise.  The  whole  reign  is  noteworthy  for  the  advance  toward 
democratic  conditions  and  for  the  progress  of  nuterial  civilization. 


448  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

It  is  marked  also  by  the  development  of  science,  with  its  influ- 
ence on  rehgious  thought  and  on  practical  life.  The  influence 
of  these  conditions  on  literature  is  discussed  in  the  text,  and  may 
be  profitably  studied  in  the  works  of  literary  historians  and  critics. 
What  are  the  characteristics  of  Macaulay's  style  or  method  of 
presentation  that  make  his  works  so  attractive  ?  What  is  Carlyle's 
attitude  toward  the  great  movements  of  his  age  ?  What  are  his 
special  powers  as  a  literary  craftsman  ?  Indicate  the  range  of 
Ruskin's  subject-matter  and  the  peculiarities  of  his  style.  What 
are  some  of  the  characteristics  of  Arnold  as  a  literary  critic  ? 
How  does  Dickens's  humor  affect  his  portrayal  of  Hfe  and  char- 
acter ?  Analyze  one  of  Dickens's  plots,  and  give  an  opinion  as  to 
his  skill  in  the  handling  of  a  story.  How  are  Thackeray's  novels 
affected  by  his  satirical  purpose  ?  What  aspects  of  human  life 
does  Thackeray  chiefly  portray,  and  how  far  is  he  successful  in 
the  creation  of  lifelike  characters  ?  In  what  ways  are  the  novels 
of  George  Eliot  influenced  by  democratic  and  scientific  tenden- 
cies? Show  by  illustration  whether  George  Eliot's  skill  as  a 
novehst  lies  chiefly  in  the  handling  of  plot  or  in  the  delineation 
of  character.  What  poems  of  Arnold  illustrate  his  attitude  toward 
religious  faith?  Characterize  that  attitude.  What  is  revealed  in 
Mrs.  Browning's  So7inets  from  the  Portuguese  as  to  the  quality  of 
her  poetical  genius  and  as  to  her  love  for  Robert  Browning  ? 
What  does  Robert  Browning  mean  by  describing  his  own  work 
as  "  poetry  always  dramatic  in  principle  "?  Describe  Browning's 
method  in  the  use  of  the  dramatic  monologue.  What  is  Brown- 
ing's attitude  toward  science  and  religion  ?  What  characteristics 
of  a  great  poet  are  to  be  discovered  in  Browning's  work  ?  What 
does  Tennyson's  poetry  reveal  as  to  his  conception  of  the  poetic 
art  ?  Illustrate  from  his  poetry  the  range  of  subject-matter  with 
which  Tennyson  deals.  Compare  Tennyson  with  Arnold  and 
Browning  in  the  matter  of  religious  faith.  For  what  poetical 
qualities  is  Tennyson's  work  most  noteworthy?  Show  to  what 
extent  the  democratic  and  scientific  tendencies  of  the  age  are 
manifested  in  prose  literature  —  in  the  novel  —  in   poetry. 

Additional  Suggestions  for  Literary  Study. 

The  following  suggestions  are  condensed  from  Crawshaw's 
Interpretation  of  Literature  and  Literary  Interpretation  of  Life 
(The  Macmillan  Co.). 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  449 

Style.  —  Any  good  rhetoric  will  give  the  stiulcnt  an  idea  of  the 
qualities  of  style  to  be  noted  in  a  great  writer  ;  but  the  following 
outline  will  perhaps  be  found  more  serviceable  for  purposes  of 
literar)'  study  and  criticism. 

There  are  four  great  elements  in  the  substance  of  all  literature 
—  Thought,  Emotion,  Imagination,  and  Beauty;  and  from  these 
naturally  flow  tour  great  classes  of  style  qualities  —  the  IntrlUctual, 
the  Emotional,  the  Imaginative,  and  the  ^-Est/u-tii-.  By  intflkctual 
qualities  of  style  are  meant  such  (jualities  as  are  determined  by 
the  character  of  the  thinking.  They  are  of  all  kinds  and  degrees, 
good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  according  as  the  thought  itself  is  of 
one  sort  or  another.  For  purposes  of  study  we  may,  however, 
note  three  great  intellectual  virtues  of  style  —  Correctness  (rhe- 
torical as  well  as  grammatical),  Clearness  (including  both  per- 
spicuity and  precision),  and  Simplicity  (as  distinguished  from 
abstruseness,  ornateness,  etc.).  It  may  be  noted  that  clearness 
an<.l  simplicity  are  not  absolute  virtues  of  style,  but  only  relative 
to  the  subject,  the  writer,  the  occasion,  etc.  Perhaps  a  safe  prin- 
ciple would  be  that  the  style  should  be  as  clear  and  simple  as  the 
thought  and  the  circumstances  will  allow.  By  emotional  qualities  of 
style  are  meant  such  qualities  as  are  determined  by  the  character 
of  the  feeling.  These  qualities  vary  with  every  shade  and  degree 
of  emotion  ;  but  we  may  note  three  groups  or  classes  —  Streni^lh 
(of  all  degrees,  from  animation  to  vehemence,  from  brilliancy  to 
sublimity).  Pathos  (expressing  the  tender  or  passive  emotions), 
and  the  Ludicrous  (wit,  humor,  etc.).  I/nai^i native  qualities  of 
style  are  such  as  are  determined  by  the  images  or  conceptions  to 
be  expressed.  Two  may  be  noted —  Concreteness  (indicating  the 
power  of  language  actually  to  convey  images  or  conceptions)  and 
Suggestiveness  (indicating  the  power  of  language  to  hint  or  suggest 
what  no  words  can  directly  convey).  Esthetic  qualities  are  such 
as  are  determined  by  the  beauty  of  the  substance.  Three  such 
qualities  are  Melody  (the  pleasing  succession  of  soumis),  J/armony 
(the  pleasing  concord  of  sound  with  sound  and  of  sound  with 
sense),  and  Propriety  (the  beautiful  appropriateness  of  style  to  the 
subject,  the  pur|)ose,  the  occasion,  the  writer,  etc.).  By  ajiplying 
these  tests  to  style,  the  student  may  make  an  adc(iuate  juiigment 
as  to  its  merits  and  limitations. 

Plot.  —  The  student  will  often  have  occasion  to  analyze  the 
plot  of  a  narrative  poem,  a  drama,  or  a  novel.     He  should  ob&crve 


450  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

that  a  satisfactory  analysis  does  not  consist  of  a  mere  running 
account  of  the  events  of  a  story.  That  is  mere  child's  play,  and 
does  not  involve  any  powers  of  insight  or  discrimination.  It  is 
hoped  that  the  following  directions  will  be  found  simple  yet 
effective  : 

First,  make  a  definite  statement  of  the  outcome  of  the  plot,  in 
order  that  you  may  see  whither  the  author  is  directing  his  effort. 
Secondly,  make  an  outline  of  the  development  of  the  plot,  along 
the  three  following  lines  :  (i)  The  stages  of  the  plot.  Show  here 
the  main  divisions  of  the  plot,  indicating  the  important  events 
that  begin  and  end  each  stage  and  the  important  events  included 
within  each  stage.  (2)  Various  threads  of  interest.  Sometimes 
a  plot  is  perfectly  simple,  moving  along  one  direct  line.  More 
often,  however,  there  are  several  lines  of  movement  or  threads  of 
story.  These  should  be  separated  from  each  other  and  carefully 
stated.  Then  it  should  be  shown  how  they  are  bound  together 
into  the  unity  of  the  whole  plot.  Sometimes  these  different 
threads  of  interest  are  so  distinct  and  important  as  to  constitute 
what  are  called  interwoven  plots.  A  good  example  of  this  is 
found  in  Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  the  Bond  plot 
and  the  Casket  plot  are  each  very  strongly  marked.  (3)  Effective 
means  of  developniejit.  Here  the  student  will  be  called  upon  to 
observe  the  means  (a  character,  an  event,  a  situation,  sometimes 
arising  within  the  story  and  sometimes  affecting  it  from  without) 
by  which  the  author  gets  his  story  under  way,  gives  it  a  new 
impulse  when  it  would  otherwise  come  to  a  stop,  turns  it  in  some 
new  direction,  and  brings  it  to  a  close.  Such  "  effective  means  " 
are  found  in  the  temptation  of  the  witches  in  Macbeth  and  in  the 
loss  of  Antonio's  ships  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  Finally,  the 
student  may  observe  any  striking  details  of  the  plot  that  may 
serve  to  illustrate  the  author's  method  or  his  skill  as  a  narrator. 

Character.  —  Here  there  are  two  main  objects  of  consideration  : 
(i)  Character  portrayal.  The  endeavor  should  be  to  understand 
and  to  define  what  manner  of  man  or  woman  the  author  has 
created.  For  this  there  is  no  evidence  except  the  words,  acts, 
and  relations  of  the  character  itself,  the  opinions  of  other  charac- 
ters in  the  story  as  shown  by  their  words  and  their  attitude,  or  the 
direct  descriptions  and  explanations  of  the  author.  The  student 
should  endeavor  to  avoid  reading  into  a  work  his  own  opinions  or 
the  opinions  of  anybody  else.     The  work  must  speak  for  itself. 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  45  I 

As  most  characters  are  merely  portrayed,  study  may  usually  stop 
with  this  point.  (2)  Characti-r  darlopment.  Some  characters 
undergo  a  process  of  growth.  They  remain  the  same  persons, 
but  they  are  in  some  degree  modified.  Relying  as  before  solely 
on  the  evidence  of  the  work  itself,  this  development  should  be 
traced  through  its  various  stages  to  the  final  result,  with  observa- 
tion of  the  way  in  which  the  modifications  have  been  brought 
about.  The  only  safe  way  to  study  any  character  is  to  trace  it 
through  the  work  from  beginning  to  end,  weighing  in  its  proper 
order  every  piece  of  evidence  that  the  work  aflbrds.  Then  let 
the  imagination  endeavor  to  conceive  the  character,  thus  studied, 
as  a  living  whole.  This  is  not  so  easy  a  method  as  to  form  one's 
conception  by  reading  the  opinions  of  the  great  critics,  but  it  is 
a  method  that  will  help  to  make  the  student  an  independent  critic 
for  himself.  .After  his  own  judgments  have  been  made,  it  need 
hardly  be  said  that  there  is  the  very  greatest  value  in  testing  his 
views  by  the  opinions  of  more  competent  judges.  Criticism 
ought  not  to  take  the  place  of  independent  judgment,  but  it 
should  be  used  to  balance  and  correct  independent  judgment. 

The  General  Picture  of  Life.  —  Every  great  drama  or  novel 
involves  something  more  than  the  delineation  of  individual  char- 
acters. It  involves  also  those  associations  or  relations  of  charac- 
ters which  make  up  a  complex  yet  unified  picture  of  human  life. 
This  may  be  studied  under  two  heads  :  (i)  The  particular  section 
cf  life  par trayciL  The  purpose  here  should  be  to  make  clear  just 
what  part  of  the  great  field  of  human  life  the  author  has  chosen  to 
deal  with  in  a  particular  work —  in  a  word,  what  are  the  boundaries 
of  the  little  plot  that  he  has  undertaken  to  till.  Such  a  section  of 
life  may  be  flefined  with  reference  to  historical  time,  geographical 
location,  social  rank,  tragic  or  comic  point  of  view,  realistic  or 
romantic  method  of  conception,  and  in  various  other  ways  that 
will  be  suggested  by  individual  works.  For  instance,  Thackeray, 
in  Henry  Esmond,  has  given  us  a  realistic  portrayal,  in  a  comic 
rather  than  in  a  tragic  spirit,  of  certain  phases  of  the  life  of  the 
English  nobility  during  the  reign  of  (^ueen  .Anne,  and  has  involved 
the  story  of  the  futile  efforts  of  the  Stuart  Pretender  to  regain  the 
throne  of  England.  This  statement  is  necessarily  very  brief,  and 
definition  mi^ht  be  carried  into  further  detail.  (2)  Character 
relations  —  as  shown  by  character  f^rou pin f^.  (Miaracter  grouping 
is  an  interesting  study,  but  should  not  be  regarded  as  an  cmi  in 


452  AIDS   TO    STUDY 

itself.  It  IS  important  only  as  it  serves  to  bring  out  the  significant 
relations  existing  among  the  various  characters.  Each  work  will 
suggest  its  own  principles  of  grouping.  The  various  groups  should 
be  indicated,  with  the  characters  belonging  to  each.  Then  the 
relations  that  are  indicated  by  this  grouping  should  be  pointed 
out.  It  should  also  be  noted  what  changes  in  grouping  take 
place  as  the  work  proceeds  and  how  these  changes  are  caused  by 
changing  relations. 

Imagination  and  Reality.  —  Every  literary  work  is  a  creation 
of  the  imagination  ;  but  imagination  is  always  based  upon  a  greater 
or  less  degree  of  reality.  Observation  should  be  made  as  to  the 
real  personages,  incidents,  scenes,  objects,  etc.,  involved  in  any 
work ;  and  then  the  question  should  be  raised  as  to  how  far  these 
realities  have  been  modified  or  idealized  by  the  author's  imagina- 
tion. This  study  will  often  lead  to  the  consideration  of  such  prob- 
lems as  real  local  setting,  historical  setting,  sources  of  the  plot, 
etc.  In  some  works  this  real  element  is  so  large  that  observation 
rather  than  imagination  seems  to  have  been  the  author's  chief 
business ;  in  others  imagination  has  been  exercised  so  freely  that 
the  real  element  is  to  be  defined  only  in  the  most  general  terms. 

Emotion.  —  The  emotional  element  in  great  literary  work  is  so 
large  and  so  important  that  no  student  should  ignore  it.  There 
is  not  much  that  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  formal  analysis ;  but 
one  can  at  least  observe  the  emotion  and  respond  to  it.  It  is 
important  to  note  the  emotion  that  dominates  a  whole  work,  that 
is  jnanifested  in  some  great  character,  that  gives  power  to  some 
striking  scene.  Minor  emotions  may  receive  attention  according 
to  their  interest  or  significance.  Just  as  one  should  be  mentally 
alert  in  the  reading  of  a  great  author,  so  one  should  also  be  emo- 
tionally alert,  ready  to  give  quick  and  adequate  emotional  response 
to  every  thrill  of  passion.  An  important  distinction  is  that  between 
the  emotion  of  the  author  and  the  emotion  of  his  characters. 

Thought.  —  In  some  works  —  mainly  intellectual  in  character, 
like  the  essay  —  it  is  possible  to  make  an  accurate  statement  of 
the  theme  and  then  to  make  a  definite  outline  showing  all  the 
divisions  and  phases  of  the  thought.  In  a  great  imaginative  work, 
like  a  drama,  a  novel,  or  a  poem,  this  is  not  likely  to  be  possible, 
because  the  thought  is  hidden  behind  plot,  characters,  pictures, 


AIDS   TO   STUDY  453 

oi  otner  imaginative  symbols.  Nevertheless,  these  symbols  have 
meaning  and  are  to  be  interpreted.  Even  in  a  story  or  a  drama, 
it  is  worth  while  to  attempt  a  statement  of  the  author's  central 
thought,  and,  so  far  as  possible,  of  his  whole  course  of  thought  in 
the  work.  In  an  allegory  or  a  satire  such  interpretation  of  the 
thought  is  indispensable.  &itisfactory  judgment  as  to  the  central 
thought  in  a  great  imaginative  work  is  to  be  reached  mainly  by 
considering  the  chief  characters  and  their  relations,  the  general 
effect  of  the  picture  of  life,  and  the  result  of  the  plot.  Statement 
of  the  thought  should  be  in  abstract  terms,  in  order  to  distinguish 
it  sharply  from  the  concrete  imaginative  forms  in  which  it  is 
embodied. 

Literature  and  Life. — This  book  endeavors  to  emphasize  the 
fact  that  literature  is  an  outgrowth  of  life.  Because  it  is  an  out- 
growth of  life,  it  becomes  in  turn  a  revelation  of  life.  This  revela- 
tion—  this  literary  interpretation  of  life  —  it  is  a  large  part  of  the 
business  of  the  literary  student  to  understand.  Specific  directions 
to  this  end  can  hardly  be  given  in  brief  space  ;  but  it  may  serve  a 
useful  purpose  to  call  the  attention  of  the  student  to  certain  broad 
aspects  of  the  matter.  Literature  is  first  of  all  a  revelation  of 
personality ;  the  man  is  revealed  in  his  work.  Literature  is  a 
revelation  of  the  age ;  the  whole  body  of  literary  work  in  a  given 
time  affords  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  character  of  the  period. 
Literature  is  a  revelation  of  the  race ;  enduring  racial  character- 
istics and  the  ever  varying  modifications  of  these  are  mirrored 
from  age  to  age  in  what  the  race  has  written.  Literature  is  a 
revelation  of  tiationality ;  institutions  and  governmental  forms  — 
monarchical,  oligarchical,  aristocratic,  democratic,  etc.  —  find  ex- 
pression in  literary  creation.  Literature  is  a  revelation  oi  humanity; 
through  the  world's  literature  we  may  understand  something  of 
those  fundamental  human  qualities  that  are  deeper  than  all  acci- 
dents of  nationality,  of  race,  of  age,  or  of  any  single  personality. 


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INDEX 


Abbotsford,  289,  424. 
/^hsalorn  and  Athitophel,  1S7,  439. 
AM  Vogler,  395,  447. 
Al>mes  Stript  and  W'hipi,  1 46. 
Acres,  Bob,  250. 
Adam  Bede,  376,  377,  416,  446. 
Addison,  Essay  on,  340,  440,  445. 
Addison,    Joseph,     1S2,     205-212     ff., 
219,   2J5.    242,    249.  414,   420,  421, 
440,  441. 
Address  of  the  Soul  to  its  Body,  20. 
Address  to  the  Deil,  266. 
Address  to  the  English,  33. 
A  dona  is,  299,  310,  311,  318,  444,  445. 
Advancement  of  Learning,  148. 
.-Elfric,  25.  31,  32,  410,  431. 
^■P.neid,  Virj^il's,  78,  95,  41 1. 
Agincourt,  Ballad  of,  113. 
Aglaura,  413. 
Aids  to  Kefieclion,  288. 
Alastor,  309,  310. 
Albion's  England,  1 13. 
Alchemist,  The,  137,  412,  436,  437. 
Alexander  s  /-east,  1 88,  439. 
Alexander  the  Great,  49. 
Alexandrian  Romances,  49. 

Alfred,  King,  25,  26,  27-29  ff.,  410, 
421,  429  ff. 

Allegory,  23,  32,  43  ff.,  49.  53.  59.  61, 
<>6,  67,  76  ff.,  85,  90,  loS,  109,  114, 
184,  185,  188,  202,  404. 

All  for  I.ove,  187,  414,  439. 

Airs  Well  that  Ends  IVell,  129. 

Alps.  The,  273,  302. 

Alysoun,  46. 

Amelia,  237. 

Amcrua,  88,  249,  284,  328,331,361, 
442. 


Amoretti,  107,  1 12. 

Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  151,  413. 

Ancient    Manner,     The,    2S4,     2S5, 

288,  415,  444,  445. 
Ancren  A'iwle,  45,  55,  411. 
Andrea  del  Sarto,  395,  447. 
Andreas,  23,  410,  429. 
.\n.i,des,  The,  3,  II. 
.\nglicanism,  103,  202,  419. 
Anglo-Saxon,   5,6,  7,  11,   12,  13,    17, 

93- 
Anglo-Saxun  Christian  Poetry,  12,  14- 

24,  27,  30.  31,  410,  429,  430. 
Anglo-Saxon  Conquest,  3,  8,  29,  417, 

429. 
Anglo-Saxon  Pagan  Poetry,  3-13,  14, 

15,  19  ff.,  27,  30,  31,  410,  428,  429. 
Anglo-Saxon    Prose,    16,     19,    25-34, 

410,  430,  431. 
Anglo-Saxons,  The,  3,  4,   11,  88,  119, 

429. 
.Anglo-Saxon  Verse,  5,  6,  7.  11,  12,  13, 

17,40,  42,  53,  60. 
Anne,  Queen,  199,  21S,  417,  41S,  440, 

451. 
Annus  Mirahilis,  186. 
.Witony  and  Cleopatra,  13I. 
Apollo ni us  of  Tyre,  33,  410. 
Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua,  416,  425. 
Appreciations,  4 1 6. 
Arhuthnot,  Epistle  to  Dr.,  219,  440. 
Arcadia,  lOl,  412,  435. 
Areopngitica,  174.  413,  438. 
Argument  against  Abolishing  Christi- 
anity, 202. 
Ariel,  61. 
Aristotle,  71. 
Armour,  Jean,  264,  2f)5. 

455 


456 


INDEX 


Arnold,  Edwin,  416. 

Arnold,   Matthew,  48,  318,  327,  334, 

355-^58,   382^85,    398,   416,   420, 

421,  424JL,-443,  444,  446,  448. 
Arnold,  Thomas,  382. 
Artegall,  108. 
Arthurian  Legends,  38,  43,  48,  49,  53, 

79,  172,  406,  426,  434. 
Arthur,  King,  43,  48,  79,  108,  109,400, 

402,  406. 
Ascham,  Roger,  92,  97,  412,  435. 
"Ask  me  no  more  where  Jove  bestows," 

160. 
Asolo,  397. 
Aslrcsa  Redux ^  186. 
Astrophel,  107. 
Astrophel  and  Stella,   in,   112,  412, 

437- 
As  You  Like  It,  129. 
Atalanta  in  Calydon,  416. 
Athenian  Orators,  The,  340. 
Atticus,  219. 

Augustine,  15,  25,  41,  42. 
Auld  Lang  Syne,  265,  443. 
Aurora  Leigh,  386. 
Austen,  Jane,  256,  295-298,  318,  359, 

373.  415.  420,  421,  424.  444.  445- 
Austin,  Lady,  259. 
Autumn,  To,  317,  444. 
Ayenbite  of  Inwit,  51,  55,  411. 
Ayrshire,  265. 
Azarias,  20. 

Bacon,  Essay  on,  340. 

Bacon,  Francis,  147-150,413,420,421, 

423,  427,  435. 
Ballads,  37,   45,    51,  66,  78-84,   113, 

232,  284,  288  ff.,  401,  411,  418,  433, 

434- 
Banks  d'  Doon,  The,  443. 
Bannockburn,  265,  443. 
Banquo,  132. 
Barabas,  1 16. 
Bar  Chester  Towers,  416. 
Bard,  The,  230,  441. 
Bar  ere.  Essay  on,  341. 
Barons'  Wars,  113. 


Battle  of  the  Baltic,  326. 

Battle  of  the  Books,  The,  20  r,  202,  440, 

Beaumont,  Francis,  139,  140,  142,  144, 

412,  421,  436. 
Beaux'  Stratagem,  7'he,  194,  195,414, 

439- 
Becket,  406. 
Becket,  Thomas  k,  69. 
Beckford,  William,  256,  415. 
Bede,  16,  19,  26  ff.,  41,  42,  410,  430. 
Bedford,  184,  191. 
Bennet  Family,  296. 
Beorvulf,  8-1 1,  14,  410,  427  ff. 
Bestiary,  44,  45,  55,4"- 
Bevis  of  ILanipton,  49,  41 1. 
Bible,  The,   16  ff.,  25,  26,  31,  32,  40, 

43,  44,  49,  50,  54,  57,  58,  71,  82  ff., 

92,  93,  151,  152,  166,  172,  183,  185, 

355,411  ff.,432,  435.436. 
Biographia  Liter  aria,  288,  415. 
Bishop  Blougrafii' s  Apology,  393. 
Bishop  Orders  his  Tomb,  The,  447. 
Blackmore,  Richard  D.,  416. 
Blake,  William,  252,  253,  255, 260-262, 

415.  423.  442,  443- 
Blank  Verse,  94,  95,  97,  1 14  ff.,  130  ff., 

142,  171,  176,  187,  228,  259,  309. 
Bleak  House,  361. 
Blessed  Damozel,  The,  416. 
Blickling  Homilies,  31,  410. 
Blot  in  the  ''Scutcheon,  A,  396. 
Boccaccio,  65,  67,  72,  189. 
Boethius,  28,  410,  430. 
Boniface,  195. 
Book  of  Martyrs,  97. 
Book  of  Snobs,  416. 
Borough,  The,  260. 
Boswell,  James,  240  ff.,  244,  421,  423, 

441- 
Bottom,  127. 
Bowge  of  Cotirt,  412. 
"Break,  Break,  Break,"  447. 
Bride  of  Abydos,  300. 
Bristol,  233,  234. 

Britain,  3,  8,  29,  42,  97,  113,  417,  429. 
Britannia^s  Pastorals,  145,  413. 
British,  43,  49,  289,  326,  357,442,445. 


INDEX 


457 


Britomartis,  loS. 

Brobdmgnag,  204. 

Broken  Heart,   J'he,  156,413. 

Bronte,  Charlotte,  3S0,  416,  421,  4J4. 

Hrook,  Thi,  402,  447. 

Browne,  Sir    1  hoinas.  15S,    169,   310, 

413,421. 
Browne,  William,  145-147,  413. 
Browning,  bliizabeth  Harrett,  3S5-3SS, 

394,  416,  424,  446,  448. 
Browning,  Robert,  271,  334,  31)0,  3.S7- 

397   ff.,    416,     420,    421,  424,  425, 

446  ff. 
BruiianbHrh,  Battle  of,  30,  410,  429  ff. 
Brut,  40-43,  44,  48,  56,  411,  431,  432. 
Bruf  d^Angleterre,  43. 
Brutus,  42,  43,  48,  49,  66. 
Buhvcr-I.ytton,  Lid  ward,  379,  380,  416, 

424. 
Buuyan,  Essay  on,  340,  445. 
Lunyan,  John,  182-185, 190,  191,  213, 

234,414,  420,421,423,439. 
Burke,  Edmund,  247-250,    255,   414, 

420,  441,  442. 
Burncy,  lanny,  256,  415,  420. 
Burns,  Essay  on,  445. 
Burns,  Robert,  227,  229,  251  ff.,  262- 

268,   270,   275,  278,   328,  330,  348, 

400,415,420,421,423,424,442,443. 
Burton,  Robert,  151,  319,  413. 
Bussy,  d'Amhois,  413. 
Butler,  Samuel,  192,  414,  439,  440. 
Byron,  Essay  on,  340. 
Byron,    George     Gordon,   Lord,    269, 

298-305,   307,  312,    314,  400,  415, 

420,  421,  424,  444.  445. 
Byron,  Life  of,  415. 

Gcdmon,   16-21,   22,   27,  28,  44,  410, 

429.  430- 
C-^monian    Poetry,   18-20,  410,  429, 

430- 
CiTsars,  The,  324. 
Cain,  302. 
Calcutta,  339,  367. 
Caleh  IVilliann,  256,415. 
Caliijan,  133. 


Caiiban  upon  Setebos,  393. 

Calidore,  Sir,  108. 

Cailislii,  410. 

Calvin,  John,  202. 

Cambcl,  108. 

Cambritlge,   103,    114,   164,   169,   170, 

»73.  273.  299.  3i'&,  339.  367.  397- 
Cawfaign,  The,  206,  414. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  32O,  415,  424. 
Campion,  Thomas,  1 1 2. 
Canterbury,  15,  33.  69,  72,  93,  114. 
Canterbury     Tales,     02,     68-74,    41  1, 

432,  433- 
Caponsacclii,  396. 
Caf'tain  Singleton,  212. 
Capulet,  127. 

Carcw,  Thomas,  159,  160,  413. 
Carlovingian  Romances,  49. 
Carlyle,  Thomas,   271,    333,  342-351, 

352.   356.   358,   375.  4«6,  420,421, 

424,  445,  446,  448. 
Casa  Guidi  VVindo^vs,  386. 
Castaway,  The,  25S,  259,  442. 
Castle  of  Indolence,   'The,  228. 
Castle  of  Otranto,  239,  256. 
Casuistry  of  Kama  n  Meals,  324. 
Catarina  to  Camceus,  386. 
Catholicism,  92,    103,    109,    104,    iSS, 

202,  435. 
Catiline,  137. 
Cato,  207,  414. 
Cavalier    Poetry,    159-163,    165,    166, 

169,  192,  438. 
Cavaliers,  155,  159-163,  165,  166,  169, 

192. 
Caxton,  William,  78. 
Cecilia,  256,  415. 
Celtic    Titer  at  ure.    On    the    Study   of, 

357- 
Cenii,  The,  311. 
Changeling,  '/'he,  142,413. 
Chapman,    George,     141,     143,     413. 

423- 
Characters,  ( )verbury's,  151. 
Charity,  25S. 
Charlemagne,  49. 
Charles  1,  107,  174,  438. 


458 


INDEX 


Charles  II,  167,  174,  182,  186,  439. 

Charles  the  Bold,  292. 

Charms,  The,  4,  5,  410,  428. 

Charterhouse  School,  367. 

Cha?-tism,  349. 

Chatterton,   Thomas,    233,    234,  414, 

423,  441. 
Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  38,  55,  56,  60,  61, 

62-74  ff.,  89,  103  ff.,  119,  167,  189, 

218,  301,  411,  418,  420,  421,  426, 

427,  432  ff.,  439. 
Chester,  83,  434. 
Chevy  Chase,  81. 

Childe  Harold,  300-302  fT.,  415,  444. 
Childe  Roland,  395,  447. 
Christ,    17,   23,  44,   45,  59,  60,  82  ff., 

115,  177,  184,  226,  261,  393,  400. 
Christabel,  285,  286,  444,  445. 
Christian  Hero,  The,  209. 
Christianity,   i,  4,   14-17,  20,  22,   25, 

26,  30.  31,  59.  88,  196,  429,  430, 
Christian   Year,  The,  416. 
Christ's  Hospital,  318. 
Chronicle,  Anglo-Saxon,  26,  27,  29  ff., 

33  ff-.  39.  40,  4'o,  411,  430,  431. 
Chronicle  Plays,  97,  113,  116  ff.,  126  ff., 

m^  141.  419- 

Church  of  England,  181,  188,  212. 

Civil  War,  155,  159,  173,  434,  438. 

Civil  Wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 
113,  412. 

Clarissa  Harlowe,  236,  256. 

Classicism,  64,  96,  97,  102,  117,  118, 
135.  137.  139,  146.  166,  167,  169, 
171,  179-182,  183,  185,  189,  190, 
196-199,  205,  207,  208,  212,  214  ff., 
225  ff.,  236  ff.,  247  ff.,  258,  260, 
262,  268  ff.,  326,  327,  357,  359,  384, 
385,  414,  422,  441. 

Classics,  The,  90  ff.,  95,  96,  121,  135, 
141,  188,  218. 

Cleanness,  54,  55,  411. 

Cleon,  395,  447. 

Clive,  Browning's,  395. 

Clive,  Lord,  Macaulay's,  340,  445. 

Cloister  and  the  Hearth,  380,  416. 

Cloud,  The,  307,  308,  444. 


Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  385,  416,  421, 
424,  446. 

Cockermouth,  272. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  269,  273, 
281-288,  291,  294,  297,  307,  314, 
318,  321,  323,  326,  415,  420  ff.,  424, 

444,  445- 

Colin  Cloiifs  Come  LLome  Again,  107. 

Collar,  The,  164. 

Collins,  "Wilkie,  416,  421. 

Collins,  William,  229,  230,  252,  275, 
414,421,441. 

Colonel  Jack,  212. 

Comedy,  84,  90,  91,  93,  96,  97,  114, 
118,  126  ff.,  131,  133,  137,  138, 
140  ff.,  156,  187,  193-195,  207,  209, 
246,250,419,435. 

Comedy  of  Errors,  126. 

Commonwealth,  181,  438. 

Complaint  of  Rosamo7id,  113. 

Cotnplaint  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, 96. 

Complaints,  107. 

Complete  Angler,  The,  158,  159,  413, 
438. 

Comns,  138,  171,  172,  174,  413,  438. 

Conceits,  145,  164. 

Conciliation  withAtnerica,  441. 

Confederacy,  The,  194,  414. 

Confessio  Amantis,  61,  73,  411. 

Confessions  of  an  English  Opium- 
Eater,  321,  322,  415,  424,  444. 

Congreve,  William,  194,  414,  421. 

Coningsby,  416. 

Conscious  Lovers,  The,  209,  414. 

Consolation  of  Philosophy,  28. 

Cotiversatiojt,  258. 

Conversations  with  Ben  Jonson,   147. 
Cordelia,  131. 

Coriolanus,  131. 

Corsair,  The,  300. 

Cotte7-''s  Saturday  Night,  253,  264,  267, 

268,  442. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris,  292. 
Country  Wife,  The,  1 94. 
Courtly  Makers,  95. 
Coventry,  83,  118,  373. 


INDKX 


459 


Coverdale,  Miles,  92,  412. 

Cowley,  Abraham,   165-167,  190,  413. 

C'o:c/'irr's  Grirte,  3S6,  446. 

Cowper,  William,  224,  252,  253,  255, 

257-260,    262,   263,   271,   275,  415, 

420.  421,423,442,443. 
Crabbe,  George,    255,  260,  262,  415, 

420,  421,  443. 
Craigenputtoch,  345. 
Cranmer,  Thomas,  93. 
Criisha-v,  On  thf  D(alh  of  Mr.,  167. 
Crashaw,  Richard,  164,  165,  413. 
Crist,  Cynewulfs,  22,  23,  429. 
Criticism,  loi    ff.,    139,    1S6,   1S9,  207, 

210,   217,   242,  243.   2S1,  2SS,  314. 

3'9.   323.  325.  340,  353.  354.  357. 

358- 
Critii,  The,  250. 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  167,   168,  181,   186, 

190,  191,  348,  43S,  439. 
Crom-MeU'i  Letters  anJ  Speeches,  348. 
Crossing  the  Bar,  407,  447. 
Cross,  John  Walter,  374. 
Crown  of  WtlJ  Olives,  355. 
Crusades,  292. 

Cry  of  the  Children,  The,  385. 
Cry  of  the  Human,  The,  386. 
Cuckoo  Song,  45. 
Culture  and  Anarchy,  358. 
Cur  a  Fastoralis,  27,  28. 
Curse  of  Kehatna,  326. 
Cursor  Mundi,  50,  55,  41 1. 
Cycles  of  Romance,  48,  49,  56,  411, 

432- 
Cymbeline,  43,  1 33,  403. 
Cynewulf,  21-23,  410,  429,  430. 

Dance  of  the  Sexen  Deadly  Sins,  78. 
Danes,  The,    8  «.,  23  ff.,  29,  30,  11, 

430.  43«- 
Daniel,  Cardmonian,  18,  20. 
iJaniel  Deronda,  378. 
I>anicl,  Samuel,  112,  113,  143,412. 
Dante,  64,  67,  175,  176,  261,  348. 
Dante,  Essay  on,  340. 
I'aruiii,  ("harle*  Robert,  332,  421. 
David  ami  Bethiabe,  1 1 4,  412. 


David  Copperfield,  36 1,  4 1 6,  446. 

Daz-ideis,  The,  166. 

Death  in  the  Desert,  A,  392,  393.  447. 

Death  Song,  Bede's,  19,  410. 

De  Cover  ley  Papers,  211,  212,  235, 
440. 

Defense  of  Poesy,  loi,  102,  412,  435. 

Defense  of  the  English  People,  174. 

Defoe,  Daniel,  182,  212,  213,  231, 
414,  420,  421,  423,  440,  441. 

Dejection,  286,  444. 

Dejection  near  Xaples,  Stanzas  writ- 
ten in,  309,  444. 

Dekker,  Thomas,  141,  144,  413. 

Delia,  1 12. 

Democracy,  224,  225,  227,  230,  245, 
254,  257,  265,  269,  271,  32S-331, 
335.  yo^^  343.  348,  349.  35'.  35^ 
359.  380,  385.  389.  398,  399,  445. 
447,  448. 

Deor,  Lament  of,  7,  410,  428. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,   320-325,   337, 

35°.   355.  4'5'  420,  421,  424,  444, 

445- 
Descent  into  Hell,  23. 

Desdemona,  130. 

Deserted   Village,    The,   224,  244,  245, 

414,441. 
Dcthe  of  Bid  mil  he  (he  Diichesse,  66. 
Devil,  The,  in  Moralities,  90. 
Dialects,  17,  24,  26  ff.,  30,  31,  40,  41. 

43,  44,  50,  51,  56,  63,  26S,  430. 
Dickens,  Charles,  360-367  ff.,  377,  379, 

380,  416,  420.  421,  425,  446,  448. 
Dictionary,  Johnson's,  242. 
Dido,  U4,  117. 
Discourses  in  America,  357. 
Disraeli,  Bcnjannn,  380,  416,  424. 
Dissenters,  181,  212. 
"  Dissertation    upon   Roast  Pig,"  320, 

444- 
Divina  Comincdia,  175. 

D(ibhin,  William.  308. 

Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,  380,  4 1 6. 

Dombey  and  Son,  362. 

Domett,  .\lfrc<l,  3«yo. 

Don  Juan,  304,  305. 


460 


INDEX 


Donne,  John,  144,  145,  146,  159,  164, 
166,  169,  413,  421,  422. 

Dora,  403,  404,  447. 

Donble-Dealer,  The,  194. 

Douglases,  290,  291. 

Douglas,  Gawain,  78,  93,  411. 

Dover  Beach,  334,  383,  446. 

Drama,  82-85,  89-91,  93,  96,  97,  102, 
113-143,  155,  156,  172,  175,  177, 
182,  186  ff.,  193-195.  207,  209,  234, 
246,  249,  250,  302,  311,  319,  394- 
397,   403,   406,   411    ff.,    418,   419, 

434  ff-  439.  442. 
Dramatic  Idyls,  395. 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  395. 
Dramatic   Monologues,  395-397,  448. 
Dramatic  Romances,  395. 
Drapier''^  Letters,  The,  203. 
Drayton,   Michael,  112,  113,  143,  412. 
"  Dream-Children,"  319,  320. 
"Dream- Fugue,"  323. 
Dream  of  the  Rood,  The,  23,  410,  429. 
Dre)ne,  The,  412. 
"  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes," 

139- 
Drurnnier,  The,  207. 
Drummond,  William,  147,  413. 
Dryden,  Essay  on,  340. 
Dryden,  John,  63,  64,   179,  181,  182, 

185-189  ff.,  196,  215,  216,  221,  240, 

252,  270,414,  4i9ff.,  438ff. 
Dublin,  83,  199,  200. 
Duchess  of  Malfi,  The,  143,413,436. 
Duessa,  109. 
Duke  of  Wellington,  Ode  on  the  Death 

of  the,  401,  402,  404,  447. 
Dunbar,  William,  77,  93,  411. 
Dunciad,  The,  218,  219, 
Dyer,  Sir  Edward,  112. 

Earthly  Paradise,  The,  416. 
Eastward  Ho  !  141. 
Ecclefechan,  344,  345. 
Ecclesiastical  History,  Bede's,  19,  28, 

410,  430. 
Ecclesiastical  Polity,  102,  412. 
Edinburgh,  147,  288,  321,  345. 


Edinburgh  Review,  415. 

Edward  I,  230. 

Edward  II,  116. 

Edward  III,  57,  65,  66,  417. 

Edward  VI,  93. 

Egoist,  The,  416. 

Elegies,    20,   21,    107,   147,   167,   171, 

172,   188,  224,  230,  310,  385,  405, 

410,  414,  441. 
Elegy,  Gray's,  224,  230,  414,  441. 
Elene,  22,  410,  429,  430, 
Eli  a.  Essays  ^y;  319,  415,  444. 
Eliot,  George,  332,  360,  373-380,  385, 

416,  420,  421,  424,  425,  446,  448. 
Elizabethan   Age  and  Literature,  64, 

83,  95   ff.,    100,   103,    104,  III,  112, 

119,    120,   135,   136,    141,    143,  144, 

146,   148,   159,    168,   172,   175,  180, 

193,   223,    292,   319,   326,  417.419. 

436. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  64,  92,  95,  97,  100, 

104,   109,  112,    114,  118,   120,   122, 

143,  144,  148,  435,  437. 
Eloisa  to  Abelard,  218. 
Emerson,  157,  422. 
Emma,  297,  444. 
Emotionalism,  224  ff.,  229,   230,  252, 

253,  259,  260,  262,  266,  269,  270. 
Endymion,  Keats's,  312,  315. 
Endymion,  Lyly's,  113,  114,  412. 
England^ s  Heroical  Epistles,  113. 
English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers, 

299. 
English  Mail-Coach,  The,  323,  444. 
Enoch  Arden,  398,  400,  401,  404,  447. 
Epic  Poetry,  7-1 1,   14,   19  ff.,  30,  40- 

43,  48,  49,  53,  61,  72  ff.,  76  fl.,  96, 

108-111,    166,    175-177,    192,   217, 

218,  290,  291,  317,  406. 
Epilogue  to  Asolando,  394,  447. 
Epistle  of  Karshish,  447. 
Epitaph  on  Charles  II,  192,  193. 
Epithalamion,  107. 
Erasmus,  91. 

Essay  of  Dramatig:  Poesy,  186. 
Essay  on  Criticism,  2.11,  440. 
Essay  on  Man,  219,  440. 


INDEX 


461 


Essays,  Bacon's,  14S-150,  413,  435. 

Essays,  Cowley's,  190,  413. 

Essays,  Goldsmith's,  246,  414. 

Essays  in  Criticism,  357,  416. 

Essays,  Macaulay's,  338,  340,  341,  416, 
421. 

Essenes,  The,  324. 

Elhiis  of  the  Dust,  355. 

Eton,  90,  306. 

Eton  College,  Ode  on  a  Distant  I'r as- 
pect of,  230. 

Euphues,  100,  1 13,  412,  435. 

Euphuism,  100,  103,  422. 

Evans,  Mary  Ann.    See  Eliot,  George. 

Evelina,  256. 

Evening,  Ode  to,  229,  230. 

Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  316.  415,  444. 

Everyman,  85,  434. 

Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  137. 

Ei'ery  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  137. 

Excursion,  The,  281. 

Exodus,  Civdmonian,  iS. 

EabUs,  Dryden's,  1S8. 

Fables,  Ilcnryson's,  77,  411. 

Faerie  Queene,  The,  106,  107- 1 II,  112, 

184,  228,  412,  436,  437. 
FaitJi,  407. 

Falles  of  Princes,  76,  41 1. 
FalstafT,  127,  128. 
Fare  thee  xvell,  303. 
Farewell  to  Nancy,  265,  443. 
Farquhar,  George,  194,  195,  414,  439. 
Fates  of  the  Apostles,  23. 
Father's  Teaching,  A,  20. 
Faust,  Goethe's,  115. 
Faustus,  Dottor,  1  15,  412,  437. 
Ferdinand,  Count  Fathom,  238. 
Fiction,    I'rose,    33,    73,    78,   79,    too, 

101,    184,    185,   201,   202,   204,  205, 

212,  213,  234,  235,  419.      See  also 

Novel,  The. 
Fielding,   Henry,   236-238,    250,   414, 

420,  421,  441. 
Finmbiirg,  /-n^lit  ,it,  7,  S,  410,  428. 
Fitz(icrald,  Edward,  I4I,  42U. 
Flaming  Heart,  The,  164, 


Fletcher,  John,  64,  139,  140,  142,  144, 

412,  421,  436. 
Flight  of  a  'Tartar  Tribe,  324,  444. 
Flight  of  the  Duchess,    I  he,  391,  395, 

447- 
Flodden  Field,  290. 
Florence,  378,  388. 
Folk- Poetry,  4,  5,  45  ff.,  80,  81. 
Ford,  John,  155,  156,  413,  421. 
Forest,  The,  1 38. 

Forsaken  Merman,  The,  385,  446. 
Fors  Clavigera,  352,  355. 
/•or tunes  of  Nigel,  444. 
Four  P's,  The,  90,  412. 
Fox,  John,  97. 
Era  I.ippo  I.ippi,  395,  447. 
Frederick  the  Great,  Essay  on,  340. 
Frederick  the  Great,  History  of,  341). 
French,  34,  36,  38,  39,  41  ff.,  47H-.  5'. 

52,  60,  61,66,  76,  79,82,  83,    141, 
178,  180,  183,  198,  292,  357. 

French    Revolution,    249,     254,     273, 

276,  283,  362,  420,  443. 
French  Revolution,  The,  347,  348,  446. 
Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay,  114, 

412. 
Fuller,    Thomas,    136,   157,    15S,    319, 

4'3- 
Funeral,  The,  209. 

Galahad,  Sir,  4CXD,  447. 

Gammer  Gur ton's  Needle,  97,  412. 

Gascoigne,  George,  412. 

Gawayne  and  the  Gr^ne  Knight,  Sir, 

53,  55,411,431. 
Gay,  John,  214,  414. 

Genesis  and  T.xoditi,  44,  55,  41  I. 
Genesis,  Cifdmimian,  18. 
Geoffrey  of  Monninuth,  42,  43,  48. 
(ierman,  198,  2S3,  2S9,  323.  345,  346, 

357- 
(iermany,  274,  2S1),  349. 

Giaour,   The,  300. 

Gibbon,    Edward,    28,   247,  414,  420, 

421,  423. 

(iloriana,  108,  109. 

Glubdubdrib,  204. 


462 


INDEX 


Goblin  Market,  416. 

God  and  the  Bible,  358. 

Godiva,  447. 

Godwin,  Mary,  306. 

Godwin,  William,  256,  306,  415,  421. 

Goethe,  115,  271,345. 

Going  to  the  Wars,  160,  161. 

Golden  Grove,  The,  157. 

Golden  Targe,  The,  78. 

Goldsmith,  Essay  on,  340,  445. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  182,  224,  234,  239, 
242,  244-246,  247,  250,  414,  420, 
421,  423,  441,  442. 

Good-Natured  Man,  The,  246,  250, 
442. 

Gorboduc,  43,  96,  97,  412,  435. 

Gorgeous  Gallery  of  Gallant  Inven- 
tions, 95. 

"Gothic"  Romance,  253,  256,  257, 
360. 

Gotivernail  of  Princes,  76,  411. 

Gower,  John,  56,  60-62,    73,   76,  411, 

432.  433- 
Grace  Abounding,  183. 
Grammarian's  Funeral,  A,  447. 
Grande  Chartreuse,  Stanzas  from  the, 

383- 
Gray,  Thomas,  224,  230-232,  233,414, 

420,  421,  441,  446. 
Grecian    Urn,   Ode    on   a,    315,    317, 

444. 
Greece,  300,  314,  385. 
Greek,  91,   121,    151,   177,   178,    180, 

190,   218,  317,   321,  323,  357,  378, 

439- 

Greene,  Robert,  112,  114,  412. 

Grey  of  Wilton,  Lord,  104,  109. 

Guiding  Impulses  of  English  Litera- 
ture, 2,  4,  14  ff.,  25,  26,  30,  36-38, 
39.  55.  75.  S7  ff-.  99,  100,  104,  109  f{., 
"5.  "9.  135.  145.  146,  148,  151. 
153  ff.,  163,  172,  175,  179-182,  196- 
199,  205,  214,  221-227,  251-255, 
263,  268,  269,  283,  294,  295,  298, 

313,  329-335.  343.  344.  356.  359. 
39S. 
Guido,  Count,  396. 


Guinevere,  401,  406,  447. 

Gzilliver's  Travels,  204,  205,  234,  360, 

414,  440. 
Guthlac,  23. 
Guy  Manlier ing,  444. 
Guy  of  Wariuick,  49,  411. 
Guyon,  Sir,  108. 

Hallam,  Arthur  Henry,  397,  405. 

Hallelujah,  146. 

Ha7nlet,  129. 

Hampden,  Essay  on,  340, 

Handlynge  Synne,  49,  51,  55,  41 1. 

Harold,  Bulwer-Lytton's,  380. 

Harold,  Tennyson's,  406. 

Harrow,  299. 

Hastings,  37,  49. 

Hastings,  Essay  on  Warren,  340,445. 

Hastings,  Warren,  249. 

Hathaway,  Anne,  121. 

Havelok  the  Dane,  48,  56,  41 1,  431. 

Hawes,  Stephen,  93. 

Hawkshead,  272. 

Hawthornden,  147. 

Ilazlilt,  William,  325,  326,  415,  420, 

422. 
Heart  of  Midlothian,  444. 
Hebraism,  356. 
Hebrew  Melodies,  303. 
Hellenics,  415. 
Hellenism,  356. 
Hengist,  29. 
Henry  HI,  48. 
Henry  IV,  66,  433,  434. 
Henry  IV,  128. 
Henry  V,  76. 
Henry  V,  128. 
Henry  VI,  434. 
Henry  VI,  117,  126. 
Henry  VII,  434. 
Henry  VIII,  435. 
Henry  VIII,  133. 
Henry  Esmond,  373,  416,  446,  451. 
Henryson,  Robert,  77,  411. 
Herbert,  George,  163,  164,   165,  413, 

423- 
Hero  and  Leander,  1 1 7,  412. 


INDEX 


463 


Heroes  and  Hero-  Worship,  347,  348, 

421.445- 
Heroic   Couplet,    167,    187,  219,  220, 

22S. 
Heroic  Stanzas,   186, 
Herrick,    Robert,    161-163,  413,  421, 

43^- 

Hesperides,  161-163,  413. 

He\-Avooci,  John,  (X),  142,  412. 

HcywoocI,  Thomas,  142,  413. 

Highland  Afary,  265,  443. 

Highlands,  242,  290. 

Hind  and  the  Panther,   The,  iSS. 

Hbtorical  Poetry,  ii_\  115,  145,  1S6, 
206. 

History,  English,  3,  14,  15,  24  ff.,  33  IT., 
47,48,  51,  56,  57,  60,  61,  65  ff.,  76 ff., 
87,  88,  91.93,95.  104,  100,  112,  113, 
iiSff.,  141,  143,  144,  147,  14S,  151, 
lS4ff.,  159,  167,  168,  I72ff.,  181  ff., 
185,  186,  1S8,  192,  196, 197,  199,  206, 
212,  249,  254,  271,  273,  2S3,  329,  339, 
417,  418,  428  ff.,  437  ff.,  442  ff.,  447, 
44S. 

History  of  Edward  V  and  Niehard  III, 
92. 

History  of  England,  Hume's,  247,  414. 

History  of  England,  Macaulay's,  339, 

34J.445- 

History  of  Englan,/,  Robert  Man- 
ning's, 51. 

History  of  Henry  MI,  148. 

History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,  42, 

43- 
History  of  the  World,  150,  413, 
Hogg,  James,  415. 
Holinshed,  Raphael,  97. 
Holy  Dying,  1 59. 
Holy  (Jrail,  3S,  49. 
Holy  Living,  157,  4 » 3- 
Holy  State,  'J he,  157. 
Holy  War,   The,  1S5. 
Homer,  141,  18S,  189,  21S,  261,  413. 
Homer  and  the  Homeridir,  324. 
Home  Jhoughls  from  Abroad,  447. 
Homilies,  25,  31  (f.,  40,  45,  49,  50,410, 

411. 


Hood,  Thomas,  416. 

Hooker,  Richard,  102,  412. 

Hope,  25S. 

Horace,  iSS. 

Horatius,  342. 

Horsa,  29. 

Horton,  170. 

Hotspur,  128. 

Hours  of  Idleness,  299. 

House  of  Clouds,   J  he,  386. 

House  of  the  Wo/fings,  The,  416. 

I/ous  of  Fame,   1  he,  67. 

Hnuyhnhnms,  205. 

Howard,  Henry.     See  Surrey. 

Hudibras,  192,  4 1 4,  440. 

Humanists,  91,  92,  94,  435. 

Hume,  David,  246,  247,  414,  420. 

Humphrey  Clinker,  238,414. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  415,  421. 

Husband's  Message,  The,  21.  . 

Huxley,  Thomas  Henry,  332. 

Hymn,  Gednion's,  17,  iS,  28,410,429, 

Hymn  on  the  A'ativity,  170,  172. 

Hymns,  Spenser's,  107. 

Hymn  to  St.   Theresa,  164. 

Hyperion,  3i5'  i'7.  3'^.  444- 

lago,   130. 

Idea,  1 1 2. 

Idiot  Hoy,  The,  278. 

Idler,   I  he,  242. 

Idylls  of  the  A'in^,  4<X),  403,  406,  426, 

447- 

Iliad,  218,  440. 

//  Tenseroso,  1 70,  229,  438. 

Imaginary   Conversations,  415. 

In  a  liaUony,  392,  447. 

In  a  Gondola,  392,  395,  447. 

In.lia,  249,  339,  340,  442,  447. 

Individualism,  225  ff.,  230  ff.,  236, 
240,  242,  244,  249,  251,  252,  254, 
255,  262,  267  ff.,  272,  278,  282  ff., 
295,  297  ff..  301,  302,  304,  305,  313, 
314,  326  ff.,  33S.  342,  343,  35<),  415, 

442,  443- 
In    Mimoriam,     },\T„    397,  401,    402, 
405,  40O,  4K.,  420,  447. 


464 


INDEX 


Intter  Temple  Masque,   The,  146, 
Instauratio  Magna  Scientiarum,  148. 
Interludes,  90,  96,  1 18,  142,  412,  434, 

435- 
Intimations  of  Itnmortality,  280,  281, 

415- 
Ireland,  102,  104,  107,  199,  200,  203, 

215,  326,  429. 
Irene,  250. 
Irish,  15,  104,  199,  203,  206,  249,  250, 

326,  447- 
Irish  Essays,  357. 
Irish  Melodies,  326,  415. 
Isabella,  316. 

Italian  Literature,  65,  66,  67,  94. 
Italy,   65,   66,    73,  94,   143,  164,  289, 

300,  301,  306,  312,  385. 
Ivanhoe,  292,  444. 
Ivry,  Battle  of,  342. 

Jacobean  Literature,  143-152,  419, 
James  I,  141,  143,  144,  148,  151,  153, 

154.437- 
James  I  of  Scotland,  77,  411,  421. 

James  II,  181,  188,  417,  439. 

Jane  Eyre,  416. 

Jaques,  129. 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  415,  425. 

Jew  of  Malta,  The,  115,  116,412,436, 

437- 

Joan  of  Arc,  324,  444. 

John  Anderson  my  Jo,  265. 

John  Gilpin,  258,  442. 

John  of  Gaunt,  57,  66.  ' 

"  Johnsonese,"  243,  244. 

Johnson,  Essay  on,  340,  445. 

Johnson,  Esther,  203. 

Johnson,  Life  of,  244,  421,  423,  441. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  166,  181,  182,  207, 
221,  222,  227,  234,  239-244,  246 ff., 
252,  253,  255,  257,  270,  348,  414, 
420,  421,  423,  441. 

Jo7iathan  Wild,  237. 

Jonson,  Ben,  121,  135:^1.39,  Hi,  I43, 
146,  147,  150,  151,  159,  161,  169, 
180,  181,  412,  422,436,  437 

Joseph  Andrews,  236 


Journal  of  the  Plague  Year,  212,  440. 
fournal  to  Stella,  203. 
Journey  to  the  Western  Islands  of  Scot- 
land, 242. 
Judith,  20,  410,  429. 
Juliana,  22. 
Juliet,  127,  128. 
fulitts  Ca:sar,  129,  436. 
Jungle  Books,  416. 
Junian  Manuscript,  18. 
Jutes,  The,  3. 
Juvenal,  188,  241. 

Keats,  John,  269,  310,  312-318,  351, 

415,  420,  421,424,  444  ff- 
Keble,  John,  416,  424. 
Kenilworth,  118. 
Kenilworth,  292,  444. 
Kent,  51,  61,  65. 
Killigrew,  Elegy  on  Anne,  188. 
Kim,  416. 

King,  Edward,  171,  172. 
King  Hart,  78. 
King  Horn,  48,  56,  41 1. 
King  John,  128. 
A7;/^ /.£'./ r,  43,  48,  1 31. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  380,  416,  425. 
King\  Quair,  The,  77,  411,433. 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  416,  427. 
Knightes  Tale,    The,  72,  77,  432,  439. 
Knowles,  James  Sheridan,  415. 
Knox,  John,  97,  348. 
Kyd,  Thomas,  114. 

La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci,  444. 
Lady  of  Shalott,    The,  400,  402,   404, 

447- 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  290,291,444,445. 
Lagado,  204. 

Lake  District,  272,  274,  321,  323,  429. 
Lake  Poets,  326. 
Lalla  Rookh,  326. 
n Allegro,  170,  229,  438. 
Lamb,   Charles,    142,    318-320,   415, 

420,  421,  424,  436,  444,  445. 
Lamb,  Mary,  318,  319. 
Lament  for  the  Makers,  78. 


INDEX 


465 


lamia,  316. 

I^ncelot,  406. 

I-andor,  Walter  Savage,  326,327,  415, 

420,  421. 
I  England,  William,  38,  56,  58-60,  61, 

89,  411,  432,  433. 
language,  Knglish,  5  ff.,  ll  ff.,  17,  24, 

26   ff.,  30,  31,  34,  35,  4off.,  49ff., 

56,  60,  6t,  63,  66,  69  ff.,   76,   106, 

119,  41S. 
I^puta,  204. 
Lara,  300. 

I. a  it  Days  0/  Pompeii,  380,  416. 
Last  Ride  Together,  The,  392,  447. 
Latimer,  Hugh,  93,  412. 
Ijitin,  19,  26,  27,  34,  39,  41,  42,  48, 

50,  52,  57,  61,  83,  91,  93,  102,  121, 

148,   149,    151,   164,    172.   iSo,   191, 

243- 
Latter-Day  Pamphlets,  349. 
I^yamcin,  38,  40-43,  44,  48,  56,  41 1, 

43'.  432. 
L.ay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  289,   290, 

444. 
L.ays  of  Ancient  Rome,  342,  416. 
Lectures  and  Notes   on    Shakespeare, 

288. 
Leech-Gatherer,  The,  278. 
Legend  of  Good  IVomen,  67. 
Leicester,  Earl  of,  104,  109. 
Letter  to  a  A'oble  Lord,  249. 
*•  Levana  and  our  Ladies  of  Sorrow," 

323.  444- 
Lewes,  (ieurge  Henry,  374. 
Lewis,  Matthew  Gregory,  256,  415. 
Liberty,  Ode  to,  230. 
L.iberty  of  Prophesying,  1 5  7,  438. 
Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman,  185. 
Light  Brigade,  Charge  of  the,  400,  404. 
Light  of  Asia,  The,  416. 
Lilli])utian.s,  204. 
Lincolnshire,  49.  397. 
Litany,  'The,  162. 
Literature  and  Dogma,  358. 
Little  Dorrit,  y>2. 
Little  Jo,  363. 
Little  Nell,  363. 


Aires  of  the  English  Poets,  242,  243, 

414.  44«- 

Lives  of  the  Saints,  32,  45,  410,  411. 

Li>ch  Katrine,  290. 

Lockhart,  John  (iihson,  415,  424. 

Loiksley  Hall,  447. 

l^dge,  Thomas,  112,  1 14,  41 1. 

Lollards,  57,  58,  89,  433. 

London,  57,  5S,  64,  69,  76,  S3,  103, 
104.  107,  III,  114,  121,  122,  135  «., 
169,  186,  189,  199,  203,  212,  234, 
235.  300.  3«S,  321.  345.  352.  3^". 
3''2,  3<'7.  373.  374.  3^!^- 

I.om/on,  Johnson's,  241. 

London  Lickpenuv,  76. 

I.orna  Doone,  41(1. 

Lotos-Eaters,     The,     399,     402,    404, 

447- 
Louis  XI,  292. 
L.ore  for  Lo7'e,  194,  414. 
Lovelace,    Richard,     160,     161,    413, 

435^- 

Love  Poetry,  21,  44  ff.,  61,  67,  72,  73, 
77,  81,  94,  107,  in,  112,  122-126, 
127,  130,  140,  145,  147,  159-163, 
165,  166,  192,  214,  264,  265,  387, 
391,  392,405- 

Lover's  Complaint,  A,  123. 

Love's  L.ahour's  Lost,  1 26. 

"  Love  still  has  something  of  the  sea," 
192. 

Lucifer,  176. 

Lucrece,  123. 

Lucretius,  404. 

I.uggnagg,  205. 

Luther,  202,  34S. 

l.ycidas,  171  ff.,  310,  43S,  445. 

Lydgate,  John,  76,  41 1,  433,  434. 

lying  /.over.  The,  209. 

Lyly,  John,  100,  102,  103,  112  ff,  412, 
422,  435. 

Lyndcsay,  Sir  David,  93,  412. 

Lyrical  Ballads,  271,  274,  284. 

Lyric  I'oetry,  7,  20,  21,45-47,  51,  80, 
93  ff.,  lod,  107,  Ml  ff.,  117,  123- 
126,  138,  139,  142  ff.,  159-163,  166, 
169  ff.,  188,  191    ff.,  214,  229,  230, 


466 


INDEX 


233,  253,  258,  261,  268,  281,  290, 

303.  307-312,  317.  384,  386  ff.,  395, 
396,  403,  405,  411,  412,  419,  427, 

439- 

Macaulay,  Thomas  Babington,  194, 
337-342,  343,  347,  356,  416,  420, 
421,  424,  438,  440,  445,  448. 

Macbeth,  131,  132,  142,  436,  437,  450. 

Macbeth,  Lady,  132,  437. 

Macduff,  132. 

MacFlecknoe,  187. 

Machiavelli,  Essay  on,  340. 

Macpherson,  James,  232. 

Magnyfycence,  93,  412. 

Mahomet,  348. 

Maiden  Queen,  The,  187. 

Making  of  Man,  77^^,407,447. 

Malaprop,  Mrs.,  250. 

Malcontent,  The,  141,  413. 

Maldon,  Battle  of,  30,  410,  429,  430. 

Malory,  Sir  Thomas,  78,  79,  411,  433, 

434- 
Mammon,  Sir  Epicure,  137. 
Mandeville's    Travels,   52,   411,    431, 

432. 
Manfred,  302. 

Manning,  Robert,  49,  51,  55,  411. 
Man's  a  man  for  a'  that,  A,  227,  254, 

265,  268,  443. 
Mansfield  Park,  296. 
Marguerite,  384. 
Marius  and  Sylla,  114,  412. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,   112,  11 4- 117, 

"9.  I35»  136,  141,  143,  147.   156, 

412,421,  436,  437. 
Alarmion,  290,  415,  444,  445. 
Marshalsea  Prison,  361. 
Marston,  John,  141,  413. 
Marvell,  Andrew,  191,  192,  414,  420. 
Mary  in  Heaven,  To,  265,  443. 
Alary  Morison,  265. 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  109,  437. 
Mary,  To,  257,  259. 
Mary,  Virgin,  44,  45. 
Masques,  138,  146,  171,  412. 
Massacre  of  Paris,  117. 


Massinger,  Philip,  155,  156,  413, 
Maud,  401,  405,  447. 
Measure  for  Measure,  129. 
Medal,  The,  187. 
Mediterranean,  311. 
Melrose  Abbey,  290. 
Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier,  212. 
Merchant  of  Venice,    128,   436,  437, 

450- 

Meredith,  George,  381,  416,  426. 

A/erliti  and  the  Gleam,  447. 

Merry  Wives  of  IVindsor,  128. 

Metaphysical  Poetry,  144,  145,  166. 

Methodism,  253,  442. 

Michael,  278,  279. 

Michel,  Dan,  51,  411. 

Middle  Ages,  38,  44,  49,  62  ff.,  66,  68, 
76,  79,  83  ff .,  87,  89,  92,  93,  96,  1 1 5, 
118,  223,  226,  239,  253,  257,  289  ff., 
314,  349,  406. 

Middle  English,  35  ff.,  40,  41,  43  ff., 
62,  65,  79. 

Middlemarch,  378. 

Middleton,  Thomas,  142,  413. 

Alidsnmmer  Nighfs  Dream,  126,  127. 

Miller''s  Daughter,  The,  400,  403, 
404,  447.   ' 

Mill  on  the  Floss,  The,  377,  446. 

Milton,  Essay  on,  338,  340,  438,  445. 

Milton,  John,  64,    138,    146,     153  ff., 

159,  i63ff.,  168-178,  180,  182,  183, 

189  ff.,  198,  229,  230,  252,  261,  270, 

274,  310.  323,  413.  419  ff-,  423,  427, 

437.  438,  441,  445- 
Minot,  Lawrence,  51,  411. 

Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  2S9, 

433- 
Mirabeau,  Essay  en,  340. 

Miracle  Plays,  82,  83,  118,  411,  433  ff. 

Miranda,  133. 

Mirror  for  Magistrates,  95,  96,  412, 

Misanthrope,  Le,  141. 

Mixed  Essays,  35  7. 

Modern  Painters,  353,  354,  416,  446. 

Modest  Proposal,  203. 

Moliere,  141. 

Moll  Flanders,  212. 


INDEX 


467 


Monk,  The,  256,  415. 

Montague,  127. 

Moonstone,  The,  416. 

Moore,  Thomas,  326,  415,  420,424. 

Moral  Epistles,  219. 

Moralities,    S5,    89,    90,   93,   96,    iiS, 

411,412,  433  ff. 
Morality,  383. 
Moral  OJe,  40,  44,  55. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  91,  92,  14S,  412. 
Morris,   William,  334,  416,  421,  426, 

446. 
Morte  iV Arthur,  Malory's,  7S,  79,  41 1, 

433- 
Morte  iV Arthur,  Tennyson's,  447. 
Mother  Iluhbard's  Tale,  107. 
Mother's  Picture,  On  the  Receipt  of  my, 

259,  442. 
Mouse,  Jo  n,  443. 
.Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  128. 
Muipotmof,  107. 
Munera  /'uhrris,  354. 
Murder  considered  as  one  of  the  Fine 

Arts,   324. 
Musical  Instrument,  A,  3S6. 
My  Last  Duchess,  447. 
"  My  mind  to  mc  a  kingdom  is,"  112. 
My  Xanie,  O,  265. 
Mysteries,    82-85,    89>  9^'    "^'    4"' 

433  «• 
Mysteries  of  Udolpho,  256,  415. 

Napoleon,  34S,  415,  445. 

Napoleon,  Life  of,  415. 

Nasehy,  Hattle  of,  342. 

Nash,  Thomas,  114,  117. 

Nature  in  English  Literature,  4,  5,  11, 
21,  45  ff.,  53,  74,  77,  78,  105,  106, 
120, 122, 146, 157  ff.,  161  ff.,  165,  170, 
214,  217,  218,  224  ff.,  233,  245,  252, 
259,  260,  262  ff.,  269,  273-277,  279, 
280,  283,  286,  287,  293,  301,  302, 
305,  308-311,  314,  317,  352,  353, 
392.  397.  402,  403.  420,  442,  443. 

Necessity  of  Atheism,  306. 

Ned  Bratti,  395. 

Nelson,  Life  of,  326,  4 1 5. 


Nether  Stowey,  284. 
New  Atlantis,  148. 
Newcome,  Colonel,  368,  370. 
Nraicomes,  The,  308,  446. 
Newman,  John  Henry,  416,  425. 
Nnv  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  156,413. 
A'icholas  Nicklcly,  362,  446. 
Nigger  Question,  The,  349. 
Nightingale,  Ode  to  a,  317,  444. 
Night  Thoughts,  224,  229,  414. 
Noble  Numbers,  162. 
Nodes  Ambrosian,r,  4 15. 
Norman  Con(iucst,  27,   29,  31  ff.,  35, 

36,  39.  >79.  221.  4«7.  4«S.  43'- 
Norman   French,   34,  37  ff  ,  41  ff.,  47 

ff.,  51,  56. 
Normans,  35   ff.,  43,  49,  54,56,  119, 

432- 
Norse  Mytholog)',  232,  233. 
Northanger  Abbey,  296. 
Northern  Antiquities,  232. 
Northern  Cobbler,  7  he,  404. 
Northern    Farmer,     The,    39S,    404, 

447- 
Norlhumhria,  15,  17,  23,  24,  2()  ff.,  51, 

429. 

Norton,  Thomas,  97. 

Novel,  The,  1S5,  21 1,  213,  224,  226, 
227,  234-239,  245,  246,  253,  255- 
257,    272,    291-293,    295-29S,    31S, 

Zl^y  332.  359-3^'.4i4ff-.  4>9.  44" 
ff.,  446,  448.    Sec  also  Fiction,  Prose, 

No-'uni  Organuni,  148. 

Nut- Browne  Mai  I,  Thr,  81. 

Occleve,  Thomas,  76,  41 1,  433,  434. 

Odyssey,  21S. 

GLnone,  404. 

Old  Curiosity  Shop,  361,  446. 

Old  Fortunatus,  142,  413. 

Old  Mortality,  444. 

Old  Piclum  in  Florence,  395,  447. 

Oliver  Iwisf,  446. 

Olney,  257,  258. 

On   his  bcin^-  arrived  at  the  Age  of 

7wenfy-three,  170. 
Oratory,  156,  157,  248,  250,  325. 


468 


INDEX 


Oriental  Romance,  ^^,  256,  300,  314, 

326. 
Orison  of  Our  Lady,  44,  55. 
Orm,  38,  43,  44,  411. 
Ormulum,  43,  44,  55,  411. 
Orosius,  28,  29,  410,  430. 
Orphan,  The,  193. 
Ossian,  233. 
Othello,  129,  130. 
Otway,  Thomas,  193,414,  439. 
Our  Mutual  Friend,  Tfii. 
Overbury,  Sir  Thomas,  151. 
Overreach,  Sir  Giles,  156. 
Ovid,  188,  189. 
Oivl  and  the  Nightingale,    The,    47, 

411. 
Oxford,  50,  56,  91,  306,  321,  357,  382. 

Paganism,  i,  3  ff.,   11,   14,  20,  22,  25, 

26,  30,  31,  348,  429. 
Pageants,  84,  118. 
Palace  of  Art,  The,  404,  447. 
Palamon  and  Arcite,  439. 
Pa  lice  of  Honour,  78,  411. 
Palladium,  334,  384,  446. 
Pamela,  235,  236,  414.441- 
Pantisocracy,  283. 
Paracelsus,  391. 

Paradise  Lost,  175-177,  342,  413,  438. 
Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices,  95. 
Paradise  Regained,  175,  177. 
Paraphrase,  Csedmonian,  18. 
Parisina,  300. 
Parlement  of  Foules,  67. 
Parliament,   65,  191,  208,    338,    339, 

432  ff.,  437  ff-,  445- 
Passionate  Pilgrim,  The,  123. 
Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Love,  The, 

117. 
Passion  Play,  84. 
Passions,  Ode  to  the,  229. 
Past  and  Present,  349. 
Pastoral  Care,  27,  28,  430. 
Pastorals,  77,  101,  107,  129,  I47,  1 71. 
Pater,  Walter,  416. 
Patience,  54,  55,  411. 
Paul  Dombey,  363. 


Pauline,  271.  -, 

Pearl,  The,  $2,  55.411,431- 

Peele,  George,  112,  114,  412. 

Pennsylvania,  283. 

Percy,  Thomas,  232. 

Peregrine  Pickle,  238. 

Pericles,  33. 

Periodical   Essay,  207-212,  242,   246, 

414. 
Persuasion,  297. 
Peter  Bell,  278. 
Peterborough,  34. 
Petrarch,  65,  73. 
Petrarch,  Essay  on,  340. 
Pheidippides,  395. 
Philaster,  140,  412,  436. 
Philistinism,  356. 
Phi  His,  412. 
Philosophical   Poetry,  113,    144,    145, 

175,   219,   241,  280,  281,    390-393, 

405  ff. 
Philosophy,  147,    148,    156,    175,   190, 

214,  246,  249,  256,   281,   283,  287, 

316,324,  333,345  ff.,  390. 
Phw nix  and  the  Turtle,  The,  123. 
Phcenix,  The,  23,  410,  429, 
Pickwick  Papers,  446. 
Piers  Ploivman,  58-60,  411,  421. 
Pilgrim^s  Progress,  183-185,  234,  414, 

439- 

Pindaric  Odes,  Gray's,  230. 

Pindarique  Odes,  Cowley's,  166. 

Pippa  Passes,  392,  396,  397,  447. 

Pitt,  William,  Earl  of  Chatham,  Es- 
say on,  340,  445  (442). 

Pitt,    William,   Essay   on,    340,   445, 

(443)- 
Plain-Dealer,  The,  194,  414. 

Plautus,  90. 

Pleasures  of  Hope,  The,  326,  415. 

Plutarch,  188. 

Poem  a  Alorale,  40,  41 1. 

Poet-Laureate,  188,  270,  326,  397. 

Poets'  Corner,  66,  104,  189. 

Poefs  Mind,  The,  403. 

Poet,  The,  403,  447. 

Political  Justice,  414. 


INDEX 


469 


Polyolhion,  1 1  j,  412. 

Pompilia,  396. 

Pope,  Alexander,  64,  147,  166,  181, 
1S2,  196,  19S,  214-220.  221,  225, 
227,  240,  241,  252.  257,  270,  323, 
386,  414,  419  ff.,  423,  440,  441. 

Popular  Suptrstitioiti  of  the  Hit^h- 
lauds  of  Scotland,  230. 

Portia,  1 28,  437. 

Prattnta,  355. 

Prayer  Book,  Knj;lish,  93. 

Prelude,  The,  274,  28 1,  443. 

Priike  of  Conscience,  50,  55,  41 1. 

fh-ide  and  Prejudice,  296,  415,  444. 

Prince  Hal,  76,  12S.      "^ 

Princess,  The,  401,  402,  404,  405,  426, 

447- 
Printing.  78,  87,  434. 
Prior,  Matthew,  214,  414. 
Prisoner  of  Chillou,  444. 
Procter,  Bryan  Waller,  415. 
Profane  State,  The,  157. 
Progress  of  Error,   The,  258. 
Progress  of  Poesy,  The,  231,  441. 
Prometheus    Unbound,  31 1,  312,  415, 

424,  444. 
Prophetic  fioois,  261. 
Prose,  English,   19,  25-34,  45,   50  ff., 

57.  58.  78.  79.  92,  93.  97»  100-I03. 
139,  148-152,  156-159.  169,  173, 
174,  183,  1S4,  186,  189-191,  19S, 
199,  202,  205,  207,  209,  211,  213, 
214,  235,  241  fT.,  255,  288,  297,  318, 
319,  322,  324,  325,  327,  340,  341, 
350  fT.,  355,  358.  3^'5.  37'.  4 '8. 

Prosper*),  133. 

Prospice,  394,  447. 

Protestant  Cemetery  at  Rome,  305, 
306,  313. 

Protestantism.  57.  92,  435. 

Prothalaniion,  107. 

Provoked  IVife,  The,  1 94. 

Puck,  126,  127. 

Pulley.    The,  1 64. 

Puritans  and  Puritanism,  57,  58,  103, 
14A,  152,  155.  156.  159,  ifii  fT..  16S, 
172.  173.  175.  178.  179,  181  ff.,  186, 


191  fT.,  196,  348.  417,  419,  435,  438, 

439- 
Purpose  in  Fiction,  366,  368,  372,  379, 
3S0. 

Quaiitock  Hills,  284. 
Queen  Mary,  406. 
Que n tin  Durward,  292. 

Rabbi  lien  Ezra,  3S9,  390,  395,  447. 
Race,  Literature  an<l,  i,  35  ff.,  49,  56, 

75.  119,  178,  I  So,  429,  453. 
Raikliflc,  Ann,  256,  29O,  415. 
Raleigh,    Sir    Waller,    104,    109,   144, 

•47.  '5°.  •5'.4i3.  423- 
Ralph  Roister  Doister,  90,  96. 

Rambler,  The,  242. 

Rape  of  the  Lock,  217,  219,  440,  441. 

Rasselas,  239,  241,  414,  441. 

Reade,  Charles,  3S0,  416,  421. 

Realism,  47,  60,  63,  68,  70,  74,  78,  90, 

91,    103,    134,    136,    137,    140,    1S5, 

205,  208,  212  ff.,  226,  227,  235  ff  , 
255,    256,    260,    296-29S,    330,    332, 

359  fT.,  368  ff.,  377,  3S0,  381,  391. 

Recessional,  416. 

Recruiting  Officer,  The,  194,  195. 

Rcil  Cross  Knight,  108.  no. 

Reformation,  57,  87  fT.,  92  fT.,  97,  99, 
104,  109  ff.,  119,  153,  154,  175,  179, 
348,  411,  412,  417,  433  ff. 

Reform   Bill   of  1832,  271,    329,   339, 

445- 
Reign  of  Terror,  273,  347. 

Relapse,   The,  194. 

Religio  I. aid,  188. 

Religio  Medici,  I  58,  413. 

Religion,  3  (T.,  II.  14-16,  22,  24  ff.,  28. 

33.  35.  37  «•.  42  «..  47.  49  T-.  53  «•. 
63.  75.  78.  82,  S4,  85,  87  fT.,  92,  94, 
99,  100,  109,  111,  112,  118,  145  ff.. 
'53«-.  «59.  162  ff.,  169,  172.  173. 
175,  178,  179,  181,  183,  184,  186, 
188,  196,  224  ff.,  229,  252,  253.  23S. 
259,  262,  266.  267,  270,  333,  334, 

344.  356.  375.  382,  385.  389.  429. 
44S. 


470 


INDEX 


Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry, 
232. 

Renaissance,  83,  87  ff.,  91,  92,  94,  99, 
100,  104,  109  ff.,  115,  119,  135,  145' 
146,  148,  151,  153  ff.,  172,  175.  179, 
223,  226,  265,  411,  412,  418,  419, 

434.  435- 
Restoration,  174,  182,   183,  185,   186, 

189,  191  ff.,  195,  197,  199,  215,  246, 

417.439.440. 
Retirement,  258. 
Revenge,   The,   Tennyson's,   401,  404, 

447- 
Revenge,  The,  Young's,  250. 

Revival    of    Learning,     87,    91,    92, 

435- 
Revolutionary   Spirit,    225,  231,  257, 

269,    273,  298,   299,  305,  306,  311, 

3 '3.  329.  348- 
Revolution  of  1688,  188. 
Rhyme  of  the  DucJiess  May,  387. 
Richard  I,  292. 
Richard  II,  67,  126,  433. 
Richard  III,  126,  127,  132. 
Richardson,  Samuel,  224,  235  ff.,  256, 

414,  420,  421,  423,  441. 
Richelieu,  416. 
Ring  and  the    Book,    The,  394,  396, 

416, 
Rivals,  The,  250,  442. 
Rizpah,  401. 
Robert  of  Gloucester's  Chronicle,  48, 

51,411. 
Robin  Hood,  80. 
Robinson  Crusoe,  213,  234,  235,  414, 

440. 
Robyne  and  Makyne,  77. 
Rochester,  John  Wilmot,  Earl  of,  192, 

193- 
Roderick  Dhu,  290. 

Roderick  Random,  238. 

Rolle,  Richard,  50,  55,  41 1. 

Romance,  t^t,,  35,  37  ff.,  42  ff.,  47  ff., 
51  ff.,  61,  62,  66  ff.,  72  ff.,  77  ff.,  85, 
100,  loi,  103,  114,  120,  126  ff., 
132  ff.,  137,  142,  148,  179,  185,  204, 
212,  213,    223,  234,  239,  288,  330, 


395.  396,  431  ff.  See  also  Roman- 
ticism. 

Roman  Empire,  Decline  and  Fall  of 
the,  247,  414. 

Romanticism,  104,  113,  117,  135,  136, 
138  ff.,  166, 172,  179,  180,  193,  205, 
217,  218,  221  ff.,  232,  233,  236,  239, 
242,  245,  252,  253,  256,  257,  260, 
262,  265,  266,  269,  283,  285  ff., 
291  ff.,  305,  313,  314,  319,  324,  326, 

327.  334.  359.  360,  362,  380,  385. 

403,  406,  420,  424,  441,  442.     See 

also  Romance. 
Rome,  15,  21,   22,  28,  109,  129,  138, 

305,  306,312. 
Romeo  ajid  Juliet,  1 26,  1 27. 
Romola,  378. 
Rosalifid,  412. 
Rosamond,  207. 
Rossetti,  Christina,  416,  426. 
Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  416,420,  421, 

423,425.426,446. 
Round  Table,  43,  79. 
Rousseau,  348, 
Roxana,  212. 

Royalists,  159-161,  166,  186. 
Royal  Society,  339. 
Riibaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  141. 
Rugby,  382. 

Rugby  Chapel,  334,  384,  446. 
Ruins  of  Rome,  107. 
Ruins  of  Time,  107. 
Ruin,  The,  21. 
Runes,  22,  24. 
Ruskin,  John,  351-355,  356,  358,  416, 

420,  421,  424  ff.,  446,  448. 
Ruthwell,  Cross,  20,  23,  410. 

Sackville,  Thomas,  95  ff.,  412,  435. 

St.  Agnes'  Eve,  400,  447. 

St.  Albans,  52,  147. 

St.  Cecilia^ s  Day,  Song  for,  188,  439. 

St.  Katherine,  82,  83. 

St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  233. 

St.  Patrick's,  Dublin,  200. 

St.  Paul  and  Protestantism,  358. 

St.  Paul's,  57,  144,  169. 


INDEX 


471 


St.  Peter,  202. 

5/.  Konan's  ir^i/,  292. 

Samson  .-Igonisles,  175,  177,  178,413, 

43S,  439- 

Sartor  f^esiirtus,  2 7 1 ,  345  fT. ,  41 6,  446. 

Satan,  177. 

Satire.  47,  63.  73,  74,  7S,  93,  94,  113, 
131,  137,  141,  146,  187  ff.,  191, 
192,  200  fl'.,  207,  20S,  210-212,  214, 

216  ff.,  229.  237,  238,  241,  25S,  29(), 

297.  299,  304,  369,  371,  372,  377, 
405,  439  IT.,  450. 

Satire  of  the  Three  Estates,  4 1 2. 

Saturn,  317. 

Saiii,  392.  393,  395,  447. 

Savonarola,  37S. 

Saxons,  The,  3,  II. 

Scandinavian  Mythology',  348. 

Scenes  from  Clerical  Life,  yji. 

Schiller,  Life  of  345,  348. 

Scholar-Gypsy,  The,  385,  446. 

Scholasticism,  65,  92. 

School  for  Scaiiilal,  The,  250,  414, 
442. 

Schoolmaster,  The,  92,  97,  412. 

Schools  and  Universities  on  the  Con- 
tinent, 357. 

Science,  147,  148,  190,  316,  328,  331- 

335.  343.  344.  352.  353.  35^.  359. 

360,  375.  38',  385.  388,  389,  391  ff., 

398,  44S. 
Scop,  5  ff.,  II,  12,  19,  21,  429. 
Scotch,  The,  51,  77,  78,  80  ff .,  93,  141, 

147,  22S,  244,  264,  265,  2()S,   292, 

293.  326,  345.  35'.  433.434- 
Scotland,  20,  77,  78,  80,  81,  263,  289, 

291,  345,418,429. 
Scott,  Life  of,  415,  424. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  239,  269,  271,  288- 

295.  297.   300.  3' 3.  3'4.  3«8,  359; 

379.  380.  4«5.  420,  421,  424,  433, 

444.445- 
Seafarer,  The,  21,  429. 

Seasons,  'J'he,  22.H,  229,  414. 
Sedley,  Sir  Charlc*,  192. 
Sejanus,  137. 
Scnccan  iJrama,  97,  118,  180. 


Sense  ami  Sensibility,  296,  444. 

Sentimentalism,  224,  226,  229,  230, 
236  ff.,  253,  260,  296.  363,  300. 

Sentimental  Journey,  224,  23S,  414. 

Sesame  ami  Lilies,  355,  446. 

Sezen  Lamps  of  Architecture,  353. 

Sliakespcare,  W  illiani,  1,1,  64,  76,  99, 
100,  III  ff.,  IK).  117,  1 18-135  l^-. 
147,  154,  155,  157,  166,  177,  180, 
220,  223,  251,  271,  287,  301,  318, 
3'9.  323.  326.  347.  348.  3(^2,  373. 
379.  403,  4'-.  4  "9.  421.422,  435  ff., 

439.  450- 
Shelley,  Percy  Hysshe,  234,  269,  299, 

305-312  ff.,  31S,  337,  415,  420,  421, 

424,  427,  444,  445. 
ShepheriVs  Calendar,  106,  107. 
Shepherd's  Uuutini^,  146.  413. 
Shepherd's  Pipe,  145,  146. 
Sheridan,  Richard  llrinsley,  246,  250, 

255.  414.  420,  421,  423.  442. 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  246,  250.  442. 
Shooting  Niagara  :  and  After,  349. 
Shortest  IVay  u<ith  the  Dissenters,  212. 
Shylock,  128,  437. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  64,  81,  99,  101  ff., 

107,   109,   III.   112,   144,   147,  412, 

420,  422,  435  ff. 
Siege  of  Corinth,  300. 
Silas  Marner,  ^yb,  377,  446. 
Silent  Voices,  The,  407.  447. 
Silent  ll'oman.  The,  137. 
Sir  Charles  Grandison,  236. 
Sir  Launcelot  Greaves,  238. 
Sir  Patriik  Spens,  81,  82. 
Sir  Tristrem,  48.  49,  56.  41 1. 
Skclton,  John,  93,  94,  412. 
Skylark,  'To  a,  30S,  444. 
Smith,  Sydney,  415,  420. 
Smollett,  Tobias,  23S,  414.  421,  423. 
Sohrab  and  Kustuin,  3S4,  3S5,  44O. 
Solitude,  On,  l()<). 
Somershy.  397. 
Somersetshire,  273,  284. 
Song  of  Roland,  37,  49. 
Song  of  the  Shirt,  4 1  ft. 
Songs  of  T.xpertence,  2ii\. 


472 


INDEX 


Songs  of  Innocence,  261. 

Sonnets,  94,  107,  iii,  112,  122,  123- 

126,  147,  170,  172,  173,  281,  387. 
Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese,  386-388, 

416,  446,  448. 
Sonnets,  Shakespeare's,  112,  123-126, 

127,  143,  412,422. 

Southey,  Robert,  270,  2S3,  323,  326, 

415,  420,  421,  423.424- 
Southwark,  69. 
Spain,  109,  160,  300,  437. 
Spanish  Friar,  The,  187. 
Spanish  Gypsy,  George  Eliot's,  416. 
Spanish  Gypsy,  Middleton's,  142. 
Spanish  Nun,  The,  324,  444. 
Spanish  Tragedy,  114. 
Specimens  of  English  Dramatic  Poets, 

3 '9,  436- 
Spectator,  The,  210-21 2,  242,  440,  441. 
Speculum  Meditantis,  61. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  332. 
Spenser,     Edmund,    64,     103-iiiff., 

116,  117,  119,   144,   146,   147,   154, 

169,  184,  228,  229,  265,  412,  420  ff., 

427,  436,  437,  441. 
Spenserian  Stanza,  106,  108,  no,  in, 

228,  264,  310,  437. 
Spring,  Ode  on  the,  230. 
Stanzas  for  Music,  303. 
Steele  Glas,  The,  412. 
Steele,  Sir  Richard,  182,  207-212,  213, 

235,  242,  249,  414,  423,  440,  441. 
Sterling,  John,  Life  of,  349. 
Sterne,  Lawrence,  224,  238,  239,  414, 

420,  421,  423,  441. 

Stevenson,    Robert   Louis,    380,   416, 

421,  424  ff. 
Still,  John,  97. 

Stones  of  Venice,  353,  446. 
Storie  of  Thebes,  76. 
Stow,  John,  97. 
Strafford,  396. 
Stratford,  118,  120  ff.,  133. 
Strayed  Reveller,  The,  385,  446. 
Struldbrugs,  205. 

Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Origin  of  our 
Ideas  of  the,  248,  249. 


SuckHng,  Sir  John,  160,  413,  438. 
Surrey,  Henry  Howard,   Earl  of,  89, 

94.  95.412,418,  435- 
Suspiria  de  Profundis,  322. 
Susquehanna,  283. 
Swift,   Jonathan,    182,    199-206,   208, 

212,   213,   215,  216,  234,  356,  414, 

420,  423,  440. 
Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles,  48,  334, 

416,  421  ff.,  426,  446, 

Tabard  Inn,  69. 
Table  Talk,  258, 
Taillefer,  37,  49. 
Tale  of  a  Tub,  202. 
Tale  of  Two  Cities,  361,  446. 
Tales  from  Shakespeare,  319. 
Tales  of  the  Hall,  260. 
TalisiJian,  The,  292,  444. 
Tamburlaine,  114,  115,  117. 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  128. 
Tatti  O^Shanter,  253,  265,  266,  442. 
Task,  The,  259,  415,  442. 
Tatler,  The,  210. 
Taylor,  Jeremy,  156  ff.,  169,   198,  319, 

413,  420,  423,  438. 
Tears  of  the  Muses,  107. 
Teazle,  Sir  Peter  and  Lady,  250. 
Tempest,  The,  133. 
Temple,  Essay  on,  340. 
Temple,   Sir  William,    190,    199,  201, 

203,  414,  421,  439. 
Temple,  The,  164,  413. 
Tender  Htisband,  The,  209. 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  48,   63,   271,    305, 

327.  m^  337.  359.  386,  397-407. 
416,  418,   420,   421,   424   ff.,    430, 

445  ff- 
Testament  of  Creseide,  77. 

Teufelsdrockh,  Diogenes,  346. 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace,  332, 

360,  367-373.  377.  379.  380,  416, 
420,  421,  425,  446,  448,  451. 

Thalaha,  415. 

Thistle  and  the  Rose,  The,  77,  78,411. 

Thomson,  James,  214,  227-229,  250, 
252,  275,414,  423.441- 


INDEX 


473 


Thyrsis,  385,  4 1 6,  446. 

Tiger,  The,  262. 

Timber,  139,412. 

Timon  of  Athens,  1 31. 

Tintern  Abbey,  Liius  lompcsed  above, 

>32,  277. 
Titania,  127. 
Titans,  311,  317. 

Tilhonus,  404. 
Tito  Melenia,  37S. 

Titus  AuJronuus,  1 26. 

Toilette  0/ the  llebrexo  l.aJy,  324. 

Tom  Jones,  237,414,  441. 

Totter s  Miscellany,  95,412,  435. 
Towneley,  83,  434. 

Toxophilus,  92. 

Tragedy,  96,  97,  114-117,  118,  126. 
127,  129  ff.,  134.  137,  138,  140,  142, 
143.  156,  177,  187,  193,  207,  229, 
250,419,435. 

Translating  Homer,  On,  357. 

Traveller,  The,  244,  245. 

Treasure  Island,  380. 
Triamond,  108. 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  199. 

'Tristram  ShanJy,  238,  414,  441. 

Troilus  and  Cressida,  131. 

Troilus  and  Criseyde,  67,  77. 
Trojan  Romances,  42,  49. 
Trollope,  Anthony,  380,  416,  421,  425. 
Trossachs,  The,  290. 
Troy,  49,  67. 

Troye  Book,  76. 

Truth,  258. 
Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  352.  353. 

Twelfth  Xight,  129. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  126. 

Two  Voices,  The,  401,  447. 
Tyndale,   William,   89,  92,    151,   412, 

422,  432,  435. 
Tyndall,  John,  332. 

'Tyrannic  I. ore,  1S7. 

Udall,  Nicholas,  90,  96,  412. 
C'lysies,  404,  447. 
Underwoods,  i  \H. 
Univcriity  Wits,  113,  114,  i  iS 


Unto  this  Last,  354. 

Unwins,  The,  257. 

Urn  Burial,  158. 

Utofia,  91,  92,  148,  283,  412,  435. 

Vanbrugh,  Sir  John,  194,  414. 

Vanessa,  203. 

Vanity  Fair,  36S,  372,  446. 

Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,  241,  414. 

Vathek,  256,  415. 

Vaughan,  Henry,  165,  413. 

Venice,  128,  137,  388. 

Venice  Preserved,  193,  414,  439. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  122,  123. 

Versification,  5  ff.,  1 1,  12,  17,  18,  39  ff., 
50,  51,  53,  60,  71  ff.,  80  fT.,  94,  95, 
97,  106,  no,  Ii4ff.,  142,  146,  166, 
167,  171,  176,  187,  192,  216  ff.,  228, 
259,  265,  276,  281,  284,  291,  307, 
310,  3S4,  386,  401,  429. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield,  239,  245,  414,  441. 

Vice,  The,  in  Moralities,  90. 

Victorian  Period,  335,  359,  381,  399, 
420,  421,  427,  447. 

Victoria,  t,)ueen,  399,  447. 

Village,  The,  260,  415. 

Virgil,  78,95,  188,412. 

VirgiPs  Gnat,  107. 

Virginius,  415. 

Virgins,  To  the,  162. 

Vision  of  Poets,  387. 

Vittoria  Corombona,  143. 

Volpone,  137. 

Vox  Clamantis,  61. 

Wace,  41  ff.,  48. 

Waldhere,  8,  410. 

Wales,  321,  429. 

Waller,  Kdmuml,  165,  167,  413. 

Walpole,  Horace,  239,  25O. 

Walton,    1/aak,    158,    159,    4IJ.  421 

438- 
IVanderer,  The,  21,  429. 

Warner,  William,  113. 
Warwickshire,  120,  373,  378. 
Waterloo,  301,  372,  444. 
Waverley,  289. 


474 


INDEX 


Waverley  Novels,  289,  339,  415. 
Way  of  the  World,  The,  194. 
Webster,  John,   143,    156,   413,   421, 

436. 
Weissnichtwo,  346. 
Welsh,  42,  43,  230. 
Welsh,  Jane,  345. 
Wesleys,  The,  224,  253,  442. 
Westbrook,  Harriet,  306. 
Westminster  Abbey,  66,  104,  135,  137, 
189,  210,  211. 

Westminster  Review,  373. 
Westminster  School,  135. 
West-Saxon,  23,  24,  26  ff.,  30,  31,429. 
Westward  Ho  !  416. 

West  Wind,  Ode  to  the,  308,  309, 444. 

Whims  and  Oddities,  416. 

White  Devil,  The,  143. 
"  Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover  ?  " 
160. 

Widsith,  5-7,  21,  22,  410,  428. 

Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  61. 

Wife's  Complaint,  The,  21. 

Wilhelm  Meister,  345. 

William  HI,  188,417,  439. 

William  the  Conqueror,  37. 

Will  Summer's  Testament,  1 14, 

Wilson,  John,  415. 

Winchester,  27,  29,  33. 

Windsor,  66,  77. 

Windsor  Forest,  218,  227. 

Winter's  Tale,  133. 


Wishes  to  his  Supposed  Mistress,  165. 

Wish,  The,  166. 

Witch,  The,  142. 

Wither,  George,  146,  147,  413,  421. 

Woman  Killed  with  Kindness,  A, 
142,  413. 

Wo7nen  Beware  Women,  I42. 

Worcester,  33,  34,  83,  93. 

Wordsworth,  Dorothy,  284. 

Wordsworth,  WiUiam,  132,  233,  251, 
268,  269,  270-281  ff.,  287,  2S8,  291, 
294,  297,  298,  306,  307,  314,  321, 
323,  326,  328,  330,  334,  400,  415, 
420,  421,  424,  443,  445,  446. 

Worthies  of  England,  157,  413. 

Wulfstan,  25,  32,  33,  410. 

Wyatt,  Sir   Thomas,  89,  94,  95,  412, 

435- 
Wycherley,  William,  194,  414. 

Wyclif,  John,  38,  56-58,  89,  92,  151, 
411,  421,  432,433.435- 

Yahoos,  205,  341. 
Ye  Mariners  of  Ettgland,  326. 
York,  32,  83. 
Yorkshire,  16,  50. 
"  You  ask  me,  why,  though  ill  at  ease," 

447- 
Young,  Edward,  214,  224,   229,  250, 

414,  441. 
Zeus,  311,  312. 


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